


Life, Luck and Eternity

by certifiedgeek



Series: Doctor Who: Canonical Tales by CertifiedGeek [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Twelfth Doctor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 14:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13882491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/certifiedgeek/pseuds/certifiedgeek
Summary: Troubled by Ashildr's immortality the Doctor sets out on a new quest to protect the universe from humanity's obsession with living forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chronologically this sits after "Sleep No More" but before "Face the Raven".  
> No sex, drugs, or even any rock and roll. This is a canonical adventure with a touch of angst and H/C thrown in.  
> Cross post from FF.

"Mingle," she had said, "Try not to annoy anyone."

It was not surprising that they had been forcibly ejected from the insalubrious establishment within half an hour of their arrival. The bar was roughly equivalent to the toughest biker hangout back on Earth, complete with intergalactic hogs and fierce, bald aliens with scars and more facial piercings than could be counted in the second in which it would be safe to look above anyone's neck. The most terrifying hog rider in the place was a four foot tall, stocky female with green scaly skin and white punk hair who the Doctor had somehow insulted with his eyes alone. The bartender, a giant of a man with wild red eyes and a scar from eye to chin, had lifted the Doctor clear of the woman's spiked fist and deposited him outside, stopping short of throwing him across the moonlit parking lot, preferring to drop him, still protesting angrily in an especially thick Scottish drawl, between two large, stinking, trash cans.

"Don't come back," Red Eyes barked, a lizard tongue flicking from his scarred mouth, "We don't want your sort here. If I see you here again I won't protect your worn out hide from anyone, especially not Malita."

Clara stalked out of the bar, narrowly missing Red as he barged passed her. Clara's heels clicked angrily on the steps and her biker jacket, ripped from shoulder to waist, swung from her clenched fist. A twelve inch barb held her hair bun very firmly in place. She glared at the Doctor, watching him straighten his jacket and attempt to adopt a casual disregard for the entire affair. The affectation was undermined by the wrinkling of his nose at the stench of stale alcohol and what they both preferred to assume was rotting food waste in the containers either side of him. Under Clara's fierce gaze he eventually capitulated.

"It was the eyebrows," he said defensively, "They have a life of their own."

Clara rolled her eyes and pulled the sharp piece of wood from her hair tossing it to the floor.

"You owe me a new jacket, a stiff drink, an apology and a thank you," she returned, blocking his exit from between the trash cans and throwing her ripped coat at him which he caught deftly.

The Doctor had the decency to look a little sheepish.  

"Clara, I'll buy you a new coat, there's whiskey in the TARDIS, and I'm sorry for letting my eyebrows insult the oversized chameleon with a serious body odour problem. Perhaps I should shave them off? Do you think that would be less threatening?"

"Leave the eyebrows where they are," she shook her head in desperation, "And what about the 'thank you'?"

"Thank you?" he scowled in thought, "For what?"

A quirky smile spread across Clara's lips and reaching into the pocket of her trousers she withdraw a fine silver chain from which dangled a tiny, platinum key which sparkled in the moonlight.

"Not just a pretty face," she grinned.

"You humans, you're so full of yourselves."

A broad smile cracked across the Doctor's face, it was all the thanks Clara expected to receive.

Inside the bar there was a sudden roar of anger and the sound of tables being flung across the room. Clara pocketed the key and jerked her head in the direction of the TARDIS.

"Either someone else has dangerous facial hair or someone noticed they're missing their keys," the Doctor observed as he grabbed Clara by the arm and pulled her into a full blown run.

* * *

The TARDIS door slammed shut behind them with a volley of mini javelin shrieking through the night air and landing harmlessly at their feet. As fists began to beat on the exterior walls the Doctor threw a switch on the console and the TARDIS moved itself to some other, potentially safer, place in time and space. Clara laughed and tossed her coat over the nearest rail before fishing the tiny key out of her pocket.

"So, then, Doctor. What is this the key to?"

"My new Ferrari," he replied, concentrating on his work for a moment, "I thought it was time I owned a car."

"The way you fly your TARDIS there's no way I am getting in a car with you at the wheel," Clara retorted as she examined the key more closely.

It was the smallest key she had ever seen, no bigger than the nail on her little finger. The platinum was etched with a miniscule tree, its roots and branches reaching out widely to form a circle around the whole trunk. If it hadn't been for the silver chain dangling out of the lovely Malita's retro denim jeans Clara wasn't sure she would have found the key at all.

"What's it for?" she asked again, dropping it casually onto the console from where the Doctor snatched it up rather too eagerly.

"It opens a door," he said slowly, "A door to a place that, if the myths are true, should be protected from every living being for all eternity."

"Enigmatic," Clara moved closer to take another look. "Why did I just steal it? Did they know what it was for?"

The Doctor shook his head, "No, to them it's a good luck charm. It works, to a point. Not outrageous good fortune, not wealth or happiness or love. It's more subtle. It's probably what saved you from getting one of chameleon girl's barbs through your skull."

"Not bad," Clara admitted, "So can I keep it in the pocket of the new jacket you're going to buy me? I could do with a bit of luck considering my current extracurricular activities."

"Did you not just hear me say it should be kept away from every living being? Humans are the worst, if one of your lot got hold of this... it would be a disaster waiting to happen. Maybe not in your lifetime, but eventually, when you lot finally get yourselves off Earth and into space, the legend of the key and the key itself would meet. It would be a disaster of universal proportions."

"Why?"

"Because, if the legend is true, it opens the gates to Fel-har-dai."

Clara frowned and caste her hands wide, "In terms I would understand?"

The Doctor looked at her sombrely.

"In your terms, the closest single word is Eden."

  
  


"You cannot be serious," Clara's eyes bulged, "That's the key to Eden?"

The Doctor looked askance, "It is the closest single word in the English language. Fel-har-dai literally translated would be garden eternal life, but if you look at the original transcripts, which I have studied in detail, it was called Felrani harmoxia estradai, the garden of dangerous beauty where life is eternal."

"Fel-har-dai," Clara opted for a more succinct name. "And we stole the key to it because....?"

"I heard a rumour that someone knew what the key was and how to use it."

"Okay, and it wasn't the person we stole it from, so what do you plan to do with it?”

Shaking his head the Doctor hung the key carefully over a lever on the TARDIS console, his fingers brushing it very gently.

"I am going to destroy it," he answered quietly. "I cannot presume that I will always be strong enough to resist its power. I am capable of terrible things, Clara, worse by far than any human because I understand what Fel-har-dai could offer."

Clara moved slowly around the console and came to a rest beside the Doctor. She was drawn to the key, its beautiful simplicity. She reached out and the Doctor caught her hand, drawing her away from it.

"Didn't you wonder how you found it in that bar? Without knowing what you were looking for? Without knowing what it looked like or who claimed it as their possession?"

Clara nodded but said nothing.

"They key is designed to reach out to those who search for it. It is a rare form of psychic beacon. It doesn't control your thoughts but it tempts you, draws you closer. I can resist it because my senses are different to yours, more developed..."

Clara opened her mouth to object but he carried on talking, still not letting go of her hand.

"...and for once I'm not insulting humans for my own amusement. Humans and Timelords are simply genetically different, despite my outward appearance my blood, my cells, my brain… they are all structured in ways that are fundamentally alien to you.  For a Timelord this key is multidimensional. I can feel it in my mind. The moment we walked into the bar it began glowing inside my head, I could almost smell it. You aren't even aware that you are being drawn in, are you?"

She closed her eyes and concentrated. There was no beacon, just a vague thought that the key was pretty, an item she would like to hold. Nodding her acceptance Clara stepped slightly away from the key and pulled her focus back to the Doctor.

"Does it have to be destroyed? Its just a legend after all, how do you know that Fel-har-dai holds some secret of the universe?"

Before the Doctor could answer the TARDIS lurched. The central column began to pump furiously and there was a terrifying wrenching sound that rattled the room around them. Flung sideways, Clara grabbed hold of the nearest piece of handrail at the bottom of the stairs and held on as the time machine bucked and tilted like a fairground ride. The Doctor swung himself back to the controls and after trying several different buttons eventually threw off the handbrake causing the TARDIS to perform one last heave before rapidly accelerating. With the worst of the shaking over Clara ran to a monitor watching for anything familiar to appear.

"We're being dragged through space," the Doctor called to her, "We've been pulled out of the space time vortex and we're hurtling through..." he winced as he read the display above Clara's head, "We're currently hurtling through an asteroid field. I hope the shields are up."

There was a phenomenal surge of power, the lights flickered and went out, leaving only the glow of the central column as it pounded relentlessly, not in its usual sedate and reassuring manner but like a steam engine running out of control, wheezing and screeching as it moved.

"Brace yourself!" the Doctor shouted above the noise but there was nothing substantial to hold.

With a final twist the TARDIS seemed to rotate vertically through 360 degrees, Clara's stomach clenched, the Doctor threw himself towards the handrail, missed and as the TARDIS bounced into land he found himself lying uncomfortably on the steps with Clara in a heap under one of the secondary control panels.

The central column's light steadied to a faint glow and the emergency power flicked on. Clara rolled onto her back expelling a deep breath, her head spinning. The Doctor adopted a seated position on the steps for a second, taking in the situation then stalked over to the console. Clara gave him a thumbs up and the Doctor gave a brief nod. No broken bones.

"What the hell was that?" Clara clambered to her feet and joined the Doctor by the scanners. Unconsciously she ran her hand across the key that was now lying lose on the controls.

"Apparently someone wanted our attention."

Scowling he spun around and ran out of the TARDIS door. Adrenalin pumping, Clara grinned and sprinted after him.

Outside the TARDIS  the air was warm and the light a hazy gold. Blinking in the brightness Clara sought out the Doctor who stood with his back to her looking at a rough white stone wall. He was close enough to the stone to touch it and he cautiously laid one hand on the cold structure, closing his eyes and listening intently. Clara moved to speak but he raised his other hand and she held the silence until he withdrew from the wall and slipped his sonic sunglasses from his pocket.

"Where are we?" Clara asked, though a feeling of excitement in her stomach told her she already knew.

"Fel-har-dai," the Doctor said shortly. His agitation apparent on his taut face he scanned the wall with his sonic shades and his lips drew into a thin line.

"What's wrong?" Clara drew in line with this shoulder, her proximity making his tension ease slightly.

"Probably nothing," he put away the glasses with a touch of bravado, "We'll just have a look around while we're here."

"Which way?"

The Doctor looked left and right along the wall which stretched as far as they could see in both directions. Neither left nor right had any discernible merits. With a damp finger, moistened briefly in his mouth, the Doctor felt for a breeze in any direction. Clara slipped her hand through his arm.

"I have a good feeling about left," she told him, "If you're just taking a stab in the dark that is."

They turned left following the wall which ran perfectly straight along a narrow path. It was three stories high, curling over a the top at an improbable angle and every stone seemed to shimmer as they drew near it. The Doctor was strangely silent as they began walking, his eyes fixed firmly forward, his pace unusually slow.

"Doctor, what's inside the wall?"

Clara's voice brought him out of his reverie.

"Exactly? I don't know," he paused. "What do you know about the myth of eternal life?"

She shook her head, "Not my forte. Every culture has its own I suppose, the holy grail springs to mind."

"Yes, yes, yes, but that's just a fairy tale..."

"And the difference between a fairy tale and a myth is?"

"That's not important right now," he said quickly, "The point is the legends, the myths, many of them talk about a fruit that will supposedly grant immortality with varying combinations of eternal youth, rejuvenation and rebirth. There are tales on every sentient planet in every universe about the trials of an ancient who sought the tree of life, the elixir of youth, the fruit of the gods. No-one ever wants to die."

"And that's what's behind this wall? A garden of fruit that might give you eternal life?" Clara's eyes widened, "Not possible!"

A dark look crossed the Doctor's face, "Immortality is not impossible, just incredibly unlikely. It has been fashioned by mortal hand."

Clara drew a long slow breath and let it out steadily.

"This is about Ashildr."

He looked away from her. "No. Not precisely."

Clara's hand caught his arm forcing him to stop.

"You've been brooding about Ashildr since the minute we left her village. That was... that was weeks ago for me, how long ago was it for you?"

There was a non-committal shrug and an eventual admission, "I lost track."

"And you've been spending your time investigating immortality myths because you want to what? Stop any more immortals being created? How many immortals do you know that you are so sure this is the right thing to do?"

Clara's tone held disbelief and the Doctor rankled at the sound.

"I have known one or two that are cursed with the inability to die, or at least to stay dead. You don't understand, Clara. I am afraid I made a terrible mistake reviving Ashildr. No-one is supposed to live forever, no-one deserves that kind of ..."

"..luck?"

"...punishment. You’re an English teacher, you must have read A Picture of Dorian Gray. Wilde was perceptive man. It’s hard for an immortal to remain…compassionate. When everything you love dies, not once but over and over again, when there are no lasting consequences to your actions… what is there to fuel your desire for life, love?"

Clara's brow knotted. "But you’ve been alive for centuries and you’ve not lost your passion.”

An ironic smile flickered across his lips. Oh, Clara Oswald, he thought, I have lost more than you could ever know.

“We are not talking about Timelords, Clara. Longevity for my kind is natural. Death, however, comes to us all.”

“Okay, okay, I'll buy that,” Clara agreed, “But I know you can’t undo what you did, the whole not crossing your own time-line end of the universe scenario. So what now? You didn’t intend to come here but the key clearly had other ideas."

"We are just having a look around. Make sure everything is secure."

"And then?"

He walked on without answering.

Clara threw her hands up in frustration and let him go. There were times when it was better to say nothing. She looked around properly for the first time since they had arrived. The golden light was low in the sky and it was hard to see in any direction but it seemed as though there was nothing around them, no plants, not ocean, no sand or earth, only a light that stretched into infinity. Clara stepped backwards to rest on the wall and yelped in surprise as the structure gave way behind her.

By the time the Doctor was beside her Clara was back on her feet dusting off her trousers. Where the wall had been there was now a gaping hole. Bent bronze gates hung off their rusted hinges and large white stones that had once been part of the wall littered the ground. Behind the gates trees 150 metres tall blotted out the golden light and a smell of decay wafted unpleasantly from the forest floor.

"Did the legends say anything about being able to find the place without the key?" Clara asked, walking boldly toward the open gate.

The Doctor shook his head, "No, but apparently somebody did.”

"And came equipped with enough fire power to blast their way in," Clara looked back at the Doctor who’s face was pale and grim. For a moment Clara thought he looked almost afraid.  

“Clara,” he spoke quietly, looking at the ground rather than meeting her eyes, “Perhaps you should wait for me in the TARDIS.”

He received no reply and when he finally raised his eyes Clara was walking through the gap in the gates and on into the darkness.

 

They walked in silence between the trees following an ancient path that could just be distinguished from the forest floor. Far above them, in a canopy taller than anything Clara had ever seen, something hooted a three note tune and something else cawed back, a rough raucous sound that reminded her of a raven. What light there was came in piercing shafts of the sun’s glare that penetrated through thinner patches in the trees, sometimes blinding them, at other times barely producing enough illumination to see three steps ahead. The inhabitants of the trees did not venture low enough in the bows to be seen and there was no sign of any ground dwelling creatures, the absence of tracks and animal scat made the Doctor more wary. The odour of decay hung heavily in the still air.

“Stay on the path,” he urged Clara as she reached to touch the perfectly smooth bark of the nearest tree, “And don’t touch anything.”

“For a place that’s supposed to be home to the fruit of eternal life this place isn’t very hospitable.”

“It’s not supposed to be,” replied the Doctor, “If there’s no challenge in reaching your goal, is it really something you desire?”

“One does not simply walk into Mordor,” Clara muttered under her breath, then more loudly added, “Do you think we are going to have to slay dragons?”

“No dragons,” the Doctor stared into the darkness of the trees, “There would be a smell of sulphur. Dragons are hard creatures to hide. All that fire leaves charcoal everywhere, and they usually have some bones stuck between their teeth so they are usually grumpy with toothache and have foul breath.”

Clara gawped at him, “Seriously? You’ve been that close to a dragon?”

He shrugged, moving into large pocket of darkness, “I’ve seen one or two at quarters closer than I would have liked. They are intelligent beings with explosive personalities. Never tell a dragon what to do and never interrupt them flossing their teeth. If you have that many teeth you don’t want to lose track of your progress.”

Her laugh was quiet, slightly further behind him than he had expected. Turning on his heal he slid his glasses out of his pocket, turning on night vision as he did.

“Clara?”

The glasses picked up nothing at all. He tapped them in agitation and tried again. Held out his hand and looked down but the sonic glasses failed to identify that either.

“Clara?” he called again. Could he hear his own voice?

“This is not a good thing.”

The Doctor frowned until his eyebrows were almost knit together.  There was no sound. There was no light. Slowly he bent his knees and tentatively touched the ground. Between his fingers leaf litter crumpled into dust. So they were still in the forest. Or at least he was. He placed his hand flat on the floor and held his breath, focusing his senses to the small vibrations in the earth.

Come on, Clara, he thought, Move.

Clara stood motionless. She had walked only a few hesitant steps, arms outstretched hoping to snag the Doctor’s coat and had found nothing, not even a tree trunk. Careful not to spin herself around in panic she kept talking but a blanket of thick silence fell over her. She clicked her fingers beside each ear then pinched herself, hard, just to be sure she had not been transported out of her body. The pinch hurt, it would probably bruise, that was fine. She reached to the  floor and felt the dry leaves between her fingers. They were still in the forest, or at least she was. Beneath the leaf debris she found a palm sized rock. Clasping it firmly in her fist Clara placed her other hand flat on the floor, she tapped the ground hard. The fingers of her left hand felt the soft tremor. She struck the ground again, harder this time, throwing her weight behind her shoulder.

The Doctor, his senses stretched to their limits, felt a single strike upon the path. Quickly he stood to his full height and stamped on the ground, twice, then dropped back to his knees, hands on the floor, fingers spread wide. Seconds passed, he held his breath. Then it came again. Three strikes this time, behind him and to his right. He stood, took a step backwards and stamped again.

Clara felt something in the earth move. It was hard to get a direction, but she could definitely feel a change in the soil. She stayed on her hands and knees, gripping the stone harder than ever. She swung fist again, feeling the air whisk by her skin as she moved, the vibration of the rock impacting on the path sending tremors up her arm. In such close proximity to the ground it was impossible to ignore the unpleasant stench of decay that seeped through the leaves. The ground vibrated again. Clara was sure it was stronger this time, and it was in front of her. She stood, took two long step forward and reached out her hand. Her fingers brushed against something soft and she snatched at the fabric pulling it towards her.

The strikes had stopped. The Doctor held his position, fingers digging into the dirt in desperation. Where was Clara? He thought he had sensed movement in front of him, the air moved rather like a door being opened and closed. This was not right. A distinctly sick feeling crept into the Doctor’s stomach. This was not a challenge. This was not part of the forest. This was a trap.

For a fleeting moment relief welled inside Clara but the sudden icy grip on her wrist from thin, hard fingers tore it from her instantly. Clara screamed but no sound came. The rock still in her fist she lashed out, catching something at her own head height hard enough to feel something crack and produce wetness on her skin. Yanking herself free of the grip she ran blindly, the ground beneath her feet felt firm and she hoped that she was still on the path. No trees trunks seemed to bar her way. She moved left several steps slowed down, walked forward, stepped left, ran forward again. He feet found softer soil and she knew she was no longer on the track. Without sight or sound she could not tell if she had been followed, she gasped for air, adrenalin buzzing through her veins. Falling to her knees Clara groped around her until she found the hard edge of the path. It ran left and right. Moving quickly, stooping low, she took several steps forward, check the path was still at her side, and moved on again.

The darkness must end,  she told herself, I just have to keep going.

The Doctor had stopped moving. He was sitting on the ground, cross legged, letting every muscle in his body relax. Convincing his mind to be still. He breathed slowly, nostrils flaring, savouring the breath. His nose wrinkled at the strongest scent, rotting leaves mixed with the decomposition of something that had once been living flesh. Tree sap, sweet and strong came in the next breath, then guano high above him in the trees.  Next came blood. It was fresh, and a body odour, sweaty, scared and unfamiliar. They were not alone in the forest. Whatever or whoever it was lurked close behind him, weaving backwards and forwards, left to right, moving closer with each step. Rising to his feet he breathed again steadily. Clara’s scent swept in from a distance, her soap and perfume mixed with adrenalin and fear. Concentrating on keeping the stranger behind him and Clara in front the Doctor ran.

She was travelling downhill. Clara hadn’t been sure at first but a stumble and an extended roll had been enough to confirm her theory. She slowed down, her sides ached, her chest burned and her ankle twinged angrily at every step. The fall could have been worse and she knew it. Fear was forming a lump in her throat and she clenched her jaw against it. In her palm was the rock she had used as a weapon, she gripped it tightly with all her muscles prepared for an attack.

Above her head there was the same three note tune of the bird she had heard before, it was distant, barely audible.

“Doctor?” Clara said tentatively, her voice sounded shaken and raw but she could not have been more delighted. Without stopping moving she called again as loudly as she could. “Doctor!”

“Clara!”

The Doctor’s voice came from behind her and she spun around. Though sound was returning the forest was as dark as the desert on a moonless night. Clara called out again.

“I’m over here!”

Sound was fading again. She thought she could hear his footsteps for a moment but they stopped before they reached her. She struck out into the blackness with her hands and felt something hard sweep rapidly back and forth over her hand. Clara hesitated, held her ground. The breeze swept over her hand again and she lifted her palm rapidly, trying to grasp it. A thin piece of string caught between her fingers and a hard smooth object ran into the back of her hand. The string went taught, tugged twice, carefully. Clara tugged back and instantly the Doctor’s hand, warm and strong had seized hers. There was a hesitation, then the Doctor pulled Clara into a quick, very tight, hug before tugging her into another run.

Somehow the absence of light and sound was less daunting now. After a few minutes sound started to return again.

“Why does the sound keep dipping in and out?” Clara panted.

“Maybe someone is messing with the volume control,” the Doctor replied dryly, “Or we are moving out of range of the device that’s dampening it.”

“There’s someone else in there,” Clara spoke urgently, “It tried to grab me, I hit it with a rock.”

There was a grunt of approval, “Unless you’re bleeding that will be the blood I smelt behind me.”

Remembering their earlier conversation Clara asked, “Is this a trial?”

“No,” his voice was tinted with anger, “This is a trap.”

“Please tell me we’re running out of it,” a laugh forced its way from her lungs.

“We’re being driven downhill,” came the gruff reply, “Away from the path. If I were a gambling man I would say we’re running straight into it.”

“You’re the best gambler I’ve ever know.” Clara said softly.

A loud snapping sound filled the air and suddenly the ground was falling away beneath them. Feeling himself falling the Doctor shook off Clara’s hand and pushed her forcefully away just as the final branches on the trapping pit gave way and he tumbled headlong into oblivion.  


	2. Part 2

#  Part 2

“Clara?”

The Doctor’s voice, winded and urgent, called up from the bottom of the pit as soon as the last branches had settled on the the pit floor.

Clara lowered herself onto her stomach and wriggled cautiously to the edge, feeling her way inch by inch until she found the place where the ground stopped.

“I’m here,” she called back quickly, “Are you okay?”

Below her Clara heard the Doctor grunt as he got to his feet. There was some shuffling, the sound of a branch being pushed out of his way, and finally his voice reached up to her.

“Fine. Clara, you must get out of here. Whoever built this trap is probably…”

“...right behind you.”

A husky, female voice breathed unpleasantly down Clara’s neck. Clara stiffened, prepared to fight, but there was a sudden rush of light and for a few seconds everything before her eyes was brilliant white. Before she could blink Clara found herself hauled to her feet and forced into a choke hold, a slight but strong arm wrapped around her throat. Clara gagged and struggled until something gun-like was pressed against her left temple. Her hands still on her captor’s forearm trying to prise it from her throat, Clara became a perfect statue.

“Sensible girl,” the woman said and nudged them both closer to the edge of the pit.

“Who are you?” Clara rasped.

“Emerick Hale,” the woman answered, “From his hollering I’ll assume you are Clara?”

Clara’s chin performed a small nod.

“And you old man?” Emerick called down, “Identify yourself.”

“I’m the Doctor,” his voice rose up from the pit. Clara could hear a cold anger eating through his words. “Nice sensory dampener you have there. Portable and practical, although it looks like you were flying as blind as us at the end. Did someone break your goggles? Oh and your nose?”

A smirk crossed Clara’s face. That had been a well timed blow.

“I’ll break your friend’s scrawny neck if you don’t answer my questions.”

The Doctor raised his hands widely, palms open. “I’m all ears.”

“What are you doing here?” Emerick’s voice was level, controlled.

“We were having a walk in the woods.”

“Try again.”

Clara heard the weapon at the side of her head click.

“We crash landed,” said the Doctor, “My ship got pulled off course and we landed here. Then we fell through the hole that I assume you blasted in the wall. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say.”

Emerick’s grip on Clara’s neck grew tighter. Clara felt her face reddening as the pressure built in her lips and cheeks while blood struggled to circulate. Her fingers dug through Emerick’s sleeve and into flesh as a choke she was trying to suppress broke through her lips.

“Don’t hurt her!” the Doctor shouted, “We’d just been to a market on Midrios 17, purchased a couple of spare parts for the ship, Clara bought some little trinket, then just as we set off our ship was pulled off course and we ended up here.”

“Where is it?” Emerick demanded, “The trinket, where is it now?”

The Doctor shrugged, “I don’t have it. It’s on the ship.”

“I didn’t think it was anything important,” Clara forced the words out of her mouth.

“Idiots!” Emerick muttered and shoved Clara roughly to her knees.

Clara gasped for air and, peering over the edge of the pit managed to catch the Doctor’s eye and smile semi-reassuringly. The Doctor barely blinked at her, but she knew he had caught her gaze.

“One of you is going to get it,” the woman spat angrily, “And as pretty girl here is up top, I think it should be her.”

“Fine,” Clara snapped back, “But you have to swear you won’t hurt the Doctor while I’m gone.”

Emerick laughed and Clara turned to look at her for the first time. Dressed in some form of combat fatigues, dark brown and black and wearing heavy black boots Emerick Hale would not have looked out of place in any military establishment. Her face was narrow, scared with what looked like bad road rash with pieces of gravel embedded in her pale blue skin. Where humans had white in their eyes hers were jet black and her pupils were a piercing electric blue.

“He’s not going anywhere,” the woman said, unclipping something from her belt and placing it a few feet from the edge of the pit. “He will be in complete darkness and silence until we get back. Better to motivate your co-operation.”

“Be careful, Clara,” the Doctor called just before the dark and the silence swallowed them all again.

The neck of Clara’s sweater was in the palm of Emerick’s hand and Clara found herself being propelled back up the hill away from the Doctor. It didn’t take long for them to be out of range of the sensory dampener. With Emerick’s knowledge of the forest and a strong sense of direction Clara began to hear again within a few minutes.

A thought nagged frustratedly at the edge of Clara’s brain. She had been remarkably lucky in the last few hours, finding the breach in the wall, the open gates, the shot at Emerick’s nose, even finding the Doctor in the dark silence was pretty amazing.  Taking her mind back to the moments before she left the TARDIS Clara replayed the scene in her mind, remembering her hand brushing over the small key on top of the console. Had the key wormed its way into her fingers without any conscious awareness? A golden light was starting to break through the edges of the dampening field when Clara slipped her fingers into the pocket of her jeans and found the cold hard platinum of the key nestled comfortably there.

_ This could be awkward to explain _ , Clara thought with a certain degree of humour as she carefully made sure the key stayed in her pocket whilst she withdrew her hand.

“Your sensory dampener doesn’t have a very large range.”Clara observed more nonchalance than she truly possessed.

Emerick scoffed quietly, “It doesn’t need to. They are designed for close combat situations. The wearer is supposed to be within ten strides of the enemy before it is engaged.”

“Standard issue?”

“For the reconnaissance squadrons of the Ometra Brigade.” Emerick’s tone was contemptuous, “I improved it.”

Fairly safe to assume you aren’t one of the them, thought Clara.

“Where did you get it?”

“I won it.”

“In a fight?” Clara asked, turning her head slightly to catch a glimpse the woman’s face.

The woman laughed, “No. In a card game. The fool couldn’t hold his liquor. Left the bar with his dignity wrapped in bar towel. It covered him more than adequately.”

Clara laughed and felt the grip on her sweater ease a fraction.  “What else did he lose?”

Emerick gesticulated with the gun to the clothes she stood in. “These, the blaster, enough ammunition to fill it twenty times over, a particularly nice set of loaded dice and his career I should think.”

“How long ago was that?”

There was a shrug, “Right before I came here.”

“And you’ve been here...?”

A tightness pinched across Emerick’s face, “Hard to tell. The sun has never set. Chronographs do not work.”

Clara felt the grip on her sweater drop completely and she allowed herself a quiet sigh as the tension eased. Emerick was walking almost beside her, the blaster still drawn but not pointed in her direction. As casually and innocently as possible Clara glanced at her captor, inspecting her in the daylight. The woman walked boldly but her shoulders sagged and her black eyes had the thousand yard stare of someone who has witnessed horrors. It was an expression Clara had seen on her own mirrored face after Danny Pink died.

“Who did you lose?” she asked softly.

Emerick glared at her.

Clara gestured to her own eyes, “I know the look.”

The blaster twitched in Emerick’s fingers and was suddenly stowed in its holster.

“My mate,” the reply was curt and raw.

“Recently?”

There was another shrug and she said again, “The sun never sets and the chronographs don’t work.”

“I’m sorry,” Clara said sincerely, “I lost my… my mate…he was protecting me.”

Emerick met Clara’s eye for a second and there was a moment of understanding in her gaze but before Clara could make the most of the moment her companion’s eyes suddenly flashed yellow and started scouring the trees above them.

“There are distinct advantages to the sensory dampener,” Emerick said dryly as she pushed Clara into a crouch beside the nearest tree trunk, “The predators in this place can’t see you.”

A loud howl screamed through the trees and the dead leaves around their feet began to flutter as a rush of wind lifted them into the air. From the distant canopy terrifying creatures plummeted towards the earth howling and barking as they advanced.  The sun light was blotted out as the beasts drew closer their immense wings only half extended, accelerating the descent. Talons a foot long flexed from massive paws which in turn extended from stocky legs that were covered, like the remainder of the body and head, in a heavy, impenetrable exoskeleton. Rabid, hyaena like faces leered maniacally at their prey as they circled hungrily through the trees.

“What the hell are they?” Clara’s eyes were wide in a mixture of awe and terror.

“They might as well be death incarnate,” Emerick muttered, “And they will probably be the last living thing you and I will ever see.”

 

Clara could feel the beat of the featherless wings in the air. The creatures were closing in, their features made more grotesque by their increasing proximity. The forest path opened up to them like airport tarmac and they were dropping out of the sky, heavy and fast, the B52s of Fel-har-dai. From behind the tree trunk Clara could see their wings folded awkwardly as they negotiated the lower branches, their angle of approach hindered by the forest itself.

Beside her, Emerick was checking the clip in her weapon and preparing to make a last stand. Sweat was dampening the neck of her jumpsuit and her breathing had quickened. Emerick’s eyes searched the sky waiting for the beasts to be within firing range.

“The shots bounce off the armour,” she told Clara tersely. “It’s a head shot or nothing. Stay behind me, I’ll do what I can to protect you.”

“Well, thanks,” Clara exclaimed dryly, “That’s pretty nice of you considering I’m your prisoner. But I wasn’t planning on sticking around and making it easy for them. If we get back into the forest they won’t be able to open their wings. We might stand more of a chance.”

Emerick shot her an approving and surprised look as Clara’s fingers grasped the back of her belt tugging her backwards across the forest floor.

“Keep your eyes on the demented hyenas then,” Clara instructed, “I’ve got this.”

They moved in unison, awkwardly at first but with increasing speed as Emerick began to trust Clara’s guidance. The winged creatures snapped and snarled angrily above them, globules of drool dripping from their rabid mouths and falling in showers over their prey. Away from the path the trees grew more closely together and the creatures could not land, but they had smelt their prey and were clearly not going to be left wanting. The ground shuddered as some of the beasts landed on the path. Emerick swung around losing herself from Clara’s grip and they started to run  from the lumbering creatures that were pounding between the trees, their wings tucked tightly against their sides.

“We can’t outrun them!” Emerick yelled at Clara who was matching her pace as they skidded around another trunk.

“There are three on the ground,” Clara shouted back, “I hope you’re a good shot.”

The woman grunted and spun on her heal. The ground behind them shook and a stench of rotting meat filled the air as the animal’s breath poured into their nostrils nauseatingly. Gun already primed Emerick aimed between the creature's eyes and let two pulses from the weapon. The blasts impacted at the bridge of its nose and its head rocketed backwards as the neck snapped, the beast sliding dead across the forest floor and crashing into Emerick’s knees sending her tumbling backwards.

Clara heard Emerick’s cry pain as the woman crunched into a tree. Clara turned back, leaping over roots to hoist the other woman to her feet. Stunned, Emerick shook her head trying to clear the fog that was forming in front of her eyes, all around her tree trunks faded in and out of focus like ghosts in the mist. Clara dragged her into another run as a second creature bounded closer, its snarling jaws wet and foaming. Before they could run more than a few steps it was on them, its huge clawed feet toppling them like toy soldiers. As Emerick sprawled into the dirt the pistol dropped from her hand. She crawled  through the rotting leaves and ducked away from the beast’s heavy paw which swung at her face.

The pistol landed by Clara’s feet and she grabbed it, aimed loosely and fired at the creatures head. A pulse of energy caught the beast’s ear and it writhed in pain, losing interest in its original quarry and turning its attention on her. Clara swore under her breath and looked for some escape but there was none to be found. The creature leapt towards her, mouth open, hideous black and rotting teeth hanging from its massive jaws. Clara raised her hand and pulled the trigger once more. The shot  penetrated the soft tissue of the mouth, forced its way along the oesophagus and sent the beast into spasms of pain. A third shot dispatched it completely.

Emerick was back on her feet and screaming at Clara. Her eyes were wide and her hand outstretched she was begging for the gun but keeping her gaze on a space behind Clara’s left shoulder. Clara felt the world move into slow motion as she tossed the pistol to Emerick. Something heavy landed on her blocking her throw and the gun went wide.

Five thick claws wrapped around Clara’s slight form and scooped her into the air. She struggled against the grip but could not break free. Below her, she saw Emerick frantically searching for the weapon in the undergrowth. The beast tossed Clara into the air and caught her in its mouth like a kitten playing with a still wriggling rodent then used another paw to swipe Emerick across the ground and into a tree. Emerick’s eyes flickered and closed, a trail of blood began to trickle from the back of her head.

The beast began to run, thundering across the forest floor with Clara in its mouth her face staring down at the earth as it rushed passed. In a moment they were on the path and in the next they were air born with a host of other baying beasts rushing up into the sky with the ground vanishing beneath them.  Clara squeezed her eyes tightly shut as the forest floor dropped away from them. The creature's teeth held her firmly and foul smelling saliva oozed over her clothes, slowly seeping into her sweater and matting her hair. There was nothing she could do but pray the flight was short and that the creature didn’t get peckish half way home.

Emerick Hale groped at the throbbing pain at the back of her head and groaned in a mixture of pain and frustration. Sticky blood coated her fingers and a clump of hair stuck to the palm of her hand. In the distance she could hear the fading sound of large wings beating hard against the air. She screwed up her eyes, clearing the blurry images from her vision and looked for Clara amongst the leaf litter. She rolled onto her knees and felt the gun under her shin. Returning it to its holster she used a tree trunk to haul herself upright.

“Clara?” Emerick’s voice was greeted by silence.

A snarled curse slipped from Emerick’s lips and she staggered to the last place she had seen Clara standing. There was no blood only a pool of rancid drool on the floor.

“I didn’t think you lot took prisoners,” she addressed the beasts that flew far overhead quietly and with suspicion.

Emerick sighed, rubbed her blood stained hand with dry earth until it was mostly clean and popped a medicine pouch from her breast pocket. Selecting a small adhesive square she pressed the band-aid against her head feeling it dissolve into her scalp like a hundred tiny spiders creeping into her brain. The pain eased rapidly and the bleeding stopped completely within a few seconds. The kit worked well, but she did not much care for the sensation.

With the wound sealed Emerick started walking back the way she had come. Finding the edge of the path she broke into a steady trot, keeping off the track itself but following the line back down the hill. She moved swiftly, hand on her weapon eyes flitting from earth to trees and up to the sky, a deep tension keeping her alert and focused. As the darkness began to grow and silence enveloped her she slowed and stepped back onto the path where it was easier to move without walking into something.

When they had arrived Emerick and her mate had made camp in the area, setting the dampening fields to make them more secure. Though they had the high vision goggles the two of them had practised combat in the pitch in the absence of sight and sound, feeling the earth beneath their feet, sensing the movement of the air on their skin. Emerick prided herself on knowing the ground under her boots by its contours and the smell of the forest around her. Now her senses pricked at her urgently. The ground was not as it should be. Had the dampening field started at the right place? By her calculations she should be ten steps further back than her feet told her she was. She stopped in her tracks and sniffed the air. There was a strange alien scent so faint that she almost didn’t notice it. Something terribly sweet, a highly refined artificial smell. She moved away from it, two steps to the left, and felt the earth tumble away beneath her.

She landed heavily on her back and gasped for air as her diaphragm clenched in spasm. With no sound and no vision Emerick was unnerved by the shock and the absence of noise from her desperate attempts to gain breath. She forced herself into a crouch letting her muscles relax and drawing a knife from the top of her boot. Dirt and leaves rained on her from above and Emerick knew someone was standing above her, waiting.

“Where’s Clara?”

The Doctor’s voice held a note of dangerous calm as it sunk down into the pit and fell onto Emerick’s ears. For an old man he’s a lithe one, Emerick thought and she lifted her head and looked up into the darkness.

“She’s been taken,” Emerick paused to catch another breath, “Flying beasts attacked us before we got to your ship.”

“You expect me to believe that?” His words fell like a scythe. “Do you take me for some kind of fool?”

“I take you for a man, all in all,” Emerick retorted, “And men believe whatever suits them at the time.”

There was silence from above and a little more dirt cascaded over the rim of the pit.

“I would prefer that you believe Clara is alive,” she called up to him, “And that you would turn on off the dampener so that we can find her, together. ”

There was a faint click and the natural light of the forest returned. Gloomy as it was the light was enough to illuminate the angry, angled face of the man who stared down at Emerick. He observed her through his dark glasses, casually popping something from a white paper bag into his mouth and chewing it distastefully.

“Why should I believe you?”

Emerick slowly reached for her gun and lifted it from the holster with her thumb and one finger before tossing it up over the edge of the trap so that it landed by his feet.

“Because it’s the truth,” Emerick replied. “And because I don’t want anyone else’s death on my conscience.”

The Doctor stared at her for a long moment and Emerick had a suspicion the strange grey man could actually read her mind. She shuddered at the concept and held her ground. Finally he turned away and she could hear his steps moving away from the pit edge.

“I know where the creatures roost. You’ll need my help to get there! Come on Doctor, let me make this right!”

The air whistled and a thick rope swung into view. Emerick caught it, tugging the end to make sure it was attached before beginning to climb. Her feet scuffed the side of the pit and she scrabbled inefficiently back up to the forest floor, her chest still complaining from the previous fall. Breathing hard she stood to her full height and met the Doctor eye to eye a dark expression carving deep lines into his skin.

“Let me make two things absolutely perfectly clear,” he grated tightly, his eyes boring into hers, “Clara is very important to me. If you lie to me about saving her I will know. Don’t even try it, not even for a second.”

“I swear I will not lie to you,” Emerick said earnestly, placing her closed fist at the centre of her chest in a salute. “And the second thing?”

He fumbled in a pocket and produced the white paper bag he had been holding earlier. With a quick sniff and definitive wrinkle of his nose, he pressed the strange gift firmly into Emerick’s hand.

“I really don’t like jelly babies any more. You should eat them, I can’t abide littering and they are making my pocket sticky.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

The Doctor’s stride did not falter as he looked across at Emerick. Her face was pale, the blue tint of her skin faded and her skin was now tinged with green. Her species was not one with which he was familiar but her pallor was consistent with one of several possibilities, sickness, lack of food or shock. He caste his eyes critically over her stocky frame seeing her heavy steps, rolled shoulders and shadows under her eyes. He clothes were not a perfect fit, probably not even her own, and despite the weapons she did not resemble most of the other soldiers he had met in his long life.

“I’m sorry for trapping you, for making Clara lead me to your ship,” the words tumbled out of Emerick’s mouth in a flood of regret. “And I’m sorry I didn’t keep her safe.”

A muscle in the Doctor’s jaw twitched. Guilt, he thought, that would be another reason for her suddenly pale skin.

“Why did you do it?”

“Desperation.” Emerick ran her fingers through her hair, brushing away the remains of the dressing she had applied early. “You haven’t been here very long have you? This place is new to you. But after a while you realise there’s no means of tracking time. The sun never sets, your watch stops turning, and pretty soon you are counting sleep periods to differentiate days. I don’t know how long I have been here, I don’t know how long it is since Theos was killed, I don’t even know how long it’s been since I left my own world.”

A puzzled look crossed the Doctor’s face and he stopped to check his watch.

“Interesting,” he mumbled quietly.

He held out his hands and flexed his fingers, as though he might be about to play guitar, then stood with his eyes closed, a deep frown crossing his forehead making his eyebrows gather into a tight knot. Emerick watched him curiously as he appeared to focus on the air caught in an invisible prison between his palms. The Doctor’s hands spread wider and slowly relaxed, dropping to his side bewilderment replacing the concentrated focus on his face.

“Time here is almost static. A moment creeping like a telegraph in a universe of superfast broadband.” He said with a strange kind of awe in his voice, “Very impressive. And yet you have been here for some time, living in this single second.”

She blinked at him for a moment. “What kind of a man are you that can tell time from a breath of air?”

“Time Lord,” he responded, “You probably won’t have heard of us so I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

Emerick shook her head, “Heard of you? Do you think I’m an idiot? Gallifrey, the Time Lords and the Dalek wars are part of the compulsory training for all adolescents on my world. How is the war going? Last I heard you were losing, badly. Shouldn’t you be in the sky trenches defending your world instead of running half way across the galaxy?”

A strange emotion flickered across the Doctor’s face and Emerick struggled to place it. Was it pathos?

“What world are you from?” he asked.

“Duros,” Emerick replied as she started to walk on again. She looked across and saw another frown cross his face, “I’m not surprised you don’t know it. We’re a small colony of the Yalanthi, seven hundred and eighteen light years from here. We declared our independence about a thousand years ago and generally try to keep out of everyone else’s business.”

“What brought you here? This isn’t the easiest place in the universe to find.”

Emerick scowled at him, “You aren’t here by chance are you? You know what this place is.”

“Fel-har-dai,” he said shortly, “And no, we aren’t here by chance, but we aren’t here by intent either.”

They were walking downhill now with Emerick’s strides setting the pace. The path was less distinct now, overgrown in places with ferns and moss and the trees were knitted together more tightly, dimming the light until it was dusky and hard to see. Sure footed, Emerick’s steps did not falter, her heavy boots somehow creeping through the forest without a single sound.

“So why are you here?” she asked him watching his reaction surreptitiously as she popped open a clip on her hip and released her water bottle.

The Doctor remained impassive, “We found the key. It bought us here.”

Emerick rubbed at the leather thong that hung around her neck and inside her uniform, “Do you know what they key is for?”

He rolled his eyes, “To open something, no doubt. That’s what keys are generally for.”

She had to admit, that much was fairly obvious. In the half light it was difficult to read his expression, his eyes were dark recesses in his pale white skin, his nose and cheeks catching the sun occasionally turning his face into a caricature of death. Despite her bravado Emerick had never met a Time Lord and their reputation preceded him with enough gravitas to inspire a degree of caution.

“According to the legends of my home, Fel-har-dai holds the key to eternity. Just one taste will heal you, even if you are a breath away from death.”

The ragged eyebrows knotted together intensely and his words snapped angrily in her ears.

“Eternal life isn’t something anyone should have. What makes you so special that you think you can handle it? Wiser creatures than you have scoured even the mention of immortality from their worlds.”

“If anything has happened to Clara you might be glad we are so close to something so powerful,” Emerick’s retorted fired back at him at close range.

“If anything has happened to Clara you would do very well to get as far away from me as possible.”

She inhaled deeply and let go a long slow breath, feeling the frustration in her shoulders loosening with the movement.

“I don’t want the elixir for myself,” Emerick said as she ducked in front of the Doctor forcing him to stop, “My planet, everyone on the colony is dying. There’s a disease, none of our scientists have been able to find a cure. Before I left Duros word had spread that it had spread to other parts of the Yalanthi system. Our queen called together every fit person over sixteen and instructed us to find a cure. Some were sent to other systems to ask for help, others were sent on fool’s errands to seek out the mythical cures from old legends. Theos and I were teamed with a handful of others and sent out to seek Fel-har-dai. Before I came here we had been searching for five years, our original company fled in fear of the sickness and tried to get their own families to safety instead. No-one truly believed that there was anything to find. We hadn’t heard from Duros in nearly six months when Theos found an old star chart in the possession of a gambling soldier from the Ometra Brigade, and this tiny outpost was marked with a single red dot. So we had to come, and I have to keep believing that the elixir is real, because it’s the only hope my people have to survive. We don’t want eternal life. We just want to live.”

The Doctor hung his head. His pale face was taught, eyebrows knotted and wrinkles creasing his forehead like small canyons as he held a long pained blink. His lips were pursed and he had raised his right hand in a fist which was pressed firmly against his lip. Emerick stared at him, ducking her head to try and meet his eyes.

He patted down his jacket rapidly, scowled, and as he looked up to meet her gaze Emerick was aware that his eyes, instead of being filled with fire and fury, were dark with sorrow and grief.

“I am sorry, Emerick,” his voice was quiet and calm, “Clara normally helps me with this bit and I seem to have left my prompt cards in the TARDIS.”

Emerick frowned at him, “Prompt cards?”

“Yes,” he nodded gravely, “Clara thinks I need some help using the right words in… delicate… situations.”

Emerick felt the blood beginning to trickle from her face. She locked her knees and pulled herself to attention, her jaw set firm.

“I was a soldier, once,” she told him, “Just say it as it is.”

“You have been here a very, very long time,” he began quietly, “Ten thousand years, give or take a century or two…”

A cheerless laugh croaked through Emerick’s rapidly drying lips, “But that’s not possible!”

“Time runs so slowly here I can hardly sense it at all,” he gestured to the world around them with a wide vague sweep of his arm. “We are in a pocket of time, a capsule not quite sealed off from the rest of the universe. I can feel both time zones. Out there, beyond the walls of this sanctuary, already a decade has passed; whilst in here it hasn’t been much more than a few hours. I knew I had heard of Duros but I couldn’t understand why I did not recognise your species.”

He paused and Emerick’s voice rasped as she filled in the blanks.

“It’s because there hasn’t been another person like me alive in the last ten millennia.”


	3. Part 3

#  Part 3

The flight had been mercifully short and surprisingly painless. After a few minutes, when Clara felt relatively sure she wouldn't be dropped from a great height, or eaten as an in-flight meal, she had opened her eyes. The aerial skills of the creatures lacked any form of grace, each stroke of their massive wings made them bobbed up and down like tiny boats in an ocean storm, weaving to the left or the right as they went. It had been a nauseating and strangely invigorating experience. They had flown over a wide waterfall, low enough that the cool spray dampened her face, and then headed along the river’s path until they landed, in ungainly fashion, on solid ground.

Clara’s haranguing had been largely ignored as they trotted across sandy soil. The only acknowledgement she has received for her efforts was a vigorous shaking that rattled her teeth and brought her dangerously close to the jaws of another member of the pack who had snapped at her head eagerly. They had padded their way through a maze of tunnels to a lair in the middle of a hollow canyon with vertical sides worn smooth by a river many millennia ago. The canyon would, under many other circumstances, have been awe-inspiring, with arches and blow holes stretching up into the tunnel roof. Several minutes of walking later Clara knew tracing the same route out would be impossible, and the intrinsic magnificence of the place was lost as a dread began to settle uncomfortably in her stomach.

The orange light from above dwindled as its rays reached into the depths of the canyon and the channels through which Clara had been carried were filled with pockets of long shadow. Despite the lack of visible directional markers Clara knew where they were headed by smell alone, and it had made her skin prick with sweat.

The path and entrance to the lair had been scent marked by every member of the pack, a pungent odour of urine and faeces wafted unpleasantly towards them and the cave itself reeked of week old carrion and hummed with the buzz of flies. Tossed into a small hole in the back wall of the cave, a dark, dirty place with a stack of gnawed bones at one side, Clara had struggled to breathe normally as the combined foul smells filled her lungs. But no amount of smothering her nose with clothing could dampen the fetor and so Clara had removed her drool covered sweater and hung it over a rocky outcrop after using it to dry the worst of the sticky, wet, mess from her hair.

Now Clara sat cross legged on rock floor of a tiny cave drumming her fingers rhythmically on her thighs, shivering in the cool air. With no immediate escape evident, she took her time to observe every detail of her predicament. A tiny pocket, blown into the side of the larger chamber, formed her cage. A low ceiling tapered steadily into the blackness behind her, the back wall impossible to see in the pale orange light. The fissure's mouth, wide enough for a giant paw to enter, reminded Clara of a skirting board Mousehole, and old Hanna Barbera cartoons skipped unhelpfully through her mind.

Beyond the rim of her prison the crazed, winged, hyaenas prowled; growling and grizzling at each other, teeth snarling and lips curling each time one came too close. Her principle captor appeared to be the alpha male of the pack; a powerful old beast with healed gouges in his jowls and a cracked, scarred, breastplate that creaked as he paced the cavern floor. He was larger than most of the others but his tenure as alpha for the pack seemed, to Clara at least, precarious. As soon as she had been tossed from his mouth another, younger, pack member had tried to grab her. The resulting battle had lasted only a few seconds, but the youngster had a new limp to show for his troubles.

Little by little the creatures began to settle down except for one huge fiend with grey eyes. He stood a full foot taller than the alpha male and his girth was half as wide again. Furled, his wings were oddly majestic; tall and broad, and his claws clicked menacingly on the floor as his paced back and forth. His eyes never left Clara, and she carefully did not meet his gaze. Slobber was oozing from his mouth in a long trail that stretched behind him every time he turned. Clara bit her lip as a nervous laugh threatened to escape as she imagined the beast as a large, ill-tempered Bloodhound, drooling over a particularly tasty morsel.

“You’re not a very attractive fellow, are you?” she muttered, checking the contents of her pocket to see if her luck was likely to hold true.

A low rumble vibrated through the air and Clara saw the hackles on the back of both beast’s necks standing on end. The alpha’s rival flicked his tail in annoyance and shifted his gaze from his prey. Other pack members began to shrink backwards and Clara copied them, reversing into the darkness with tiny, cautious steps. The rumbling changed pitch, becoming lower and louder. In an instant the bigger beast had launched himself at the alpha, knocking him aside with a thrust of his immense paw. Clearly not interested in a protracted fight it pounced into the shallow cave and snagged Clara by the waist with its claw, dragging her into the amphitheatre.

Air was crushed from Clara’s lungs as the paw flattened her into the rock surface and she wheezed, too dazed by the impact on the floor to struggle. She could only watch as the alpha launched himself across the cave, his breast plate crashing into the side of his adversary with thunderous intensity. In a cloud of dust and blood the two creatures rolled away from Clara and she lay, prone and gasping, in the middle of the cave. The great arches in the ceiling echoed with the snapping, roaring and cracking of metal against breast plate, teeth against bone. The snarling and yelping tumbled away from her and Clara rubbed her eyes clear of dust with filthy hands painfully aware that she was the mouse in the lair. Scrambling into a crouch Clara tried to watch every beast that surrounded her, knowing that with the alpha and his rival otherwise engaged any one of the others could eat her in one mouthful.

As if they read her thoughts three beasts attacked.  They met in the middle, crashing into each other and falling into another fight between themselves. Clara rolled out from between their feet, leapt over a sweeping paw and dove for the hole in which she had been prisoner. More padded feet charged in her direction but the roof of the cavern was too small and they could not enter. Two large paws fished into the back of the cave, claws extended to their full length.

Leaping over a claw, Clara threw herself backwards into the cave praying that there was something other than a rock wall waiting to greet her. She fell face first into the dirt, yelped and scrambled forward as the edge of a claw caught her leg, ripping her jeans from the knee. The claw caught in the hem and for a second she was dragged backwards, squirming and kicking ineffectually, but the stitching broke and Clara crawled, commando style, along the floor with rocks scraping her stomach and dirt filling her nostrils until she was sure she was out of their reach. Behind her the snarling and fighting was reaching a climax. The air was filled with particles of dust. Blood and slobber flicked its way into the back of the cave and the baying, snarling and roaring was growing louder.

Still breathing hard, Clara heaved herself up onto her feet remembering at the last second to check the height of the ceiling before standing upright. In a low stoop she walked forward, one hand brushing the ceiling the other stretched out in front. Moving as fast as she dared, Clara worked her way further and further back until she was certain she could see more light ahead of her than behind.

“Where there’s light, there’s hope,” she said, using some of the Doctor's bravado to buoy her spirits.

Clara wormed her way into a narrow channel, crawling on her stomach to slip under a low hanging piece of rock. Though her whole body ached, she knew that if she stopped now she might never move again, so she pushed on, the ceiling get lower and lower until she was forced to lie on her back to wriggle and drag herself along, finding grip wherever she could on the ceiling and floor. The sounds of the pack fight behind her dimmed until they were lost in a new sound, a constant rushing noise that reverberated through the rock.

The tight crawl space ended abruptly and Clara sighed with relief as the ceiling stretched up twenty or thirty feet, into a great chamber of light with a hole carved into the rocks high above where the light blazed through. She sat for a moment feeling every muscle of her body in ways she had never experienced before with sharp pains and dull aches rippling up her back, and a unique throbbing pain in her leg where the claw had ripped through her black, skin tight, jeans. She had expected blood, but on inspection found instead a long thick scratch ran from thigh to ankle, her skin discoloured by a heavy bruise that was beginning to turn the skin a deep shade of purple.

“Luck,” Clara mused, taking the key from her pocket and observing it closely. “I need this every day. Teaching class 3C on a Monday morning would be a piece of cake with this.”

The rushing sound was louder and now, with the heat of the chase ebbing, Clara recognised it as water falling from great height. A wide tunnel opened on the other side of the cavern and a gentle breeze whispered through the air carrying a damp, fresh smell with it. Walking stiffly, her ripped trouser leg flapping as she moved, Clara crossed the cavern and entered the next tunnel. After only twenty steps the noise of the waterfall grew to deafening levels and a new shade of light trickled across the floor with rainbows dancing on the pale rock walls. Spray began to land delicately on Clara’s skin, carried on the breeze from the mouth of the tunnel which was now only a few feet in front of her.

From behind the waterfall Clara’s view of the rest of the world was obscured. It was hard to tell how far up the waterfall went, but she could see the bottom, just ten feet away, frothing and writhing furiously in a deep, wide pool. A ledge ran both directions, but a rockfall blocked the way to the left, so she turned right and skirted the pouring water cautiously, trying to keep her balance on the wet, slippery surface as she followed a path that curved with the horse shoe falls.

Naturally formed steps descended to another, smaller, waterfall, where the path was less stable but the edge of shore was tangibly close. With only a few steps left to go Clara felt her foot begin to slip on the rocks and her stomach flipped as, in slow motion, she lost her perilous grip. Landing first on her backside she flung out her arms trying to catch anything that would stop, or slow, her decent. With nothing to hold on to Clara began to slide rapidly along a narrow shoot and into a pool of crystal clear water below.

 

Emerick Hale’s face had blanched until her skin turned translucent and the veins in her neck became visible lines of blue curling up around her jaw and into her scalp. To her credit she had remained on her feet, but movement in any direction was improbable as the reality of the Doctor’s words dug into her brain without mercy.

“I am sorry,” the Doctor placed an awkward hand on her shoulder, “Although I admit the platitude has very little meaning. I have some experience with this myself…”

His voice trailed off as Emerick’s glassy eyes stared through him and he felt his old hearts ache in empathy. To be the last of one’s kind was a special torture few understood. He knew his words fell on deaf ears and an empty heart.

With a slow inhale Emerick closed her eyelids as tears spilt across her cheeks. She stood unmoving, body locked in position by rigid muscles and an iron will that 10,000 years ago had been a celebrated trait of her people. With a long, shuddering, exhale she swallowed, lifted her chin, and when she opened her black eyes they focused on the Doctor.

“There is no-one else? No survivors on other colonies? No travellers that weren’t infected?”

“The infection spread from Duros to every world the Yalanthi occupied. The whole system was quarantined for three hundred years, waiting for the disease to die out. Even now only archaeologists visit the sites. Everyone was too scared to get involved.” The Doctor paused, summoning the will to continue, “A handful of waifs and strays survived in small communities on other worlds. If they had gathered in one place the Yalanthi may have continued as a species, but they terrified, cut off from their own kind. Flung across the universe, in family groups, they couldn’t reproduce in sufficient numbers to maintain a population. Now the Yalanthi are fragments of DNA in inter-species families throughout the universe. When you leave here, you will be the only pure blooded Yalanthi in existence.”

A curt nod dipped Emerick's chin, “Thank you for your candour.”

He winced and turned his head, “I am sorry for your loss.”

A short bark of a laugh burst without humour from Emerick’s chest, and she wiped the tears from her skin with a savage swipe of her hand. Turning away she walked on, her steps slow, careless.

“What would you know about loss, Doctor?”

“More than I care to,” he replied in a tone dark enough to stop Emerick in her tracks. “I spent a few centuries as the last of my kind. It made me moody, dangerous and forgetful. I’m better now.”

“You are the last of your species?”

He shook his head and strode on, “Not any more. I’m a Time Lord. Existence is complicated.”

As he had expected Emerick was on his heel in a heartbeat.

“You could save them. My people.”

“No.”

“Of course you can,” she rushed to keep up with his sudden increase in pace. “You travel in time. You can go back. We can find the elixir and use your TARDIS.”

His frustrated sigh was lost in Emerick’s desperate hopefulness and she grabbed his arm with both her hands.

“We can save everyone.”

“Stop.” The Doctor halted mid stride and swung to face her, pity and sorrow cutting into his weathered face. “No matter what we find here, even if there is an elixir that would cure every illness ever known, I can not go back. I can not save them.”

“But…”

He took her hands and held them tightly in his own, his skin cool against her warm blood. He looked ancient now, a tiredness crept into his eyes that registered with Emerick’s panicked mind and made her pause. His fingers tightened and Emerick found her thoughts slowing to a standstill.

“It's not just a fixed point in time. I’ve trifled with those before and it always ends badly. You are not talking about saving one or two people, not even one family. You want me to save millions! Think of the changes that would force on Time?”

Emerick’s desperate look withered a little more with each word until her head hung against her chest and the Doctor allowed her fingers to slide from his grasp. Falling back on her military training Emerick locked her jaw and raised her chin to look the Doctor in the eye.

“You saved your own kind.”

The accusation pierced the Doctor’s chest with painful accuracy, “It’s complicated.”

Her gaze remained relentless.

“The Time Lords were saved but Gallifrey was lost. I don’t know where it is. Time and space is an enormous haystack when you are looking for one tiny pin.”

“And Clara?”

“Clara is not a Time Lord. She’s human.” A quizzical frown from Emerick prompted him to continue. “Humans, persistent creatures, keep interfering in places they aren’t wanted. They call it exploring. On the whole they drink a lot of tea and eat a lot of chips; and they never know when to stop asking question.”

“Have you saved her world?”

The Doctor’s face was inscrutable.

“I’ve never fought Darwinism,” he said shortly. “I am truly sorry, Emerick. I cannot save your people. But I can save you, and we can save Clara. Right now that is all I’ve got. So either you’re with me, and we find her together, or we go our separate ways.”

Stepping around Emerick without another glance the Doctor continued walking. After ten steps Emerick called after him.

“How can you be so sure she’s still alive?”

He didn’t turn and called over his shoulder, “Because she’s human, she’s persistent and she can’t help exploring.”

There was a pause before Emerick’s incredulous voice reached down to him again.

“That’s it?”

“Because I experience of these situations, because I have faith in Clara…and because she’s had so much luck since we arrived I’m sure she has the key you wanted so badly.”

A wry grin spread across the Doctor’s face as he heard Emerick curse and break into a run.

They had walked several miles downhill, largely in silence, before arriving at the river’s edge. The fast flowing water was audible from half a mile away and Emerick had led the Doctor along a path that ran parallel to the torrent, heading for what she described as a suitable crossing point.

“I am beginning to think I should have gone back for the TARDIS and flown across this swamp,” the Doctor muttered as muddy liquid seeped over the tops of his boots.

“Wouldn’t work,” Emerick responded directly for the first time since their conversation on the hill.

He scowled at the back of her head, “And you would know this because…?”

“Did you wonder why your ship stopped outside the walls, or did you assume it was you expert piloting that brought her into land?”

When the Doctor failed to reply Emerick risked a glance over her should and caught a glimpse of his frustrated expression. A modicum of grim enjoyment swelled in her heart with a perverse pleasure of watching him suffering a little. Though a portion of Emerick's conscience knew the Doctor was right, a part of her was enjoying watching him struggle, just a little bit. He caught her looking at him and fixed her with a stare.

“When Theos and I found this place we called for backup. We had blasted out the wall and made a handful of exploratory treks into the forest, enough to make it pretty clear finding what we were looking for was more than the two of us could manage,” Emerick took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “None of our own people came, I guess I know why now. We’d probably been in here a century by then.”

“That would seem likely,” the Doctor squelched a few more steps, keeping one eye on the river to his right and the other on Emerick.

“One ship answered our call, it was probably a scout for a larger outfit, scavengers at best, pirates more likely. They landed, heard our story and offered to fly over the forest to give us an idea of what was out there. Theos was packing supplies and I was trying to send another dispatch back home when they decided to explore without us and pushed their ship through the hole in the wall. They barely made it to the tree line before there was an explosion . We never found any debris. The scout was just gone.”

Emerick had found a spot of high ground where she paused, waiting for the Doctor to catch up.  Mud caked her legs up to the knee in thick brown sludge and the weight was exhausting. Taking a pair of binoculars from her kit she scanned the swamp land, verifying their position and plotting their next move.

"Where, exactly, are we headed?"

A thin, blue, finger extended from the khaki sleeve and pointed across the marsh and across the river to a mountain of rock that formed an island of towers. Pillars of yellow rock rose from the mist of immense horseshoe waterfall. Like a fairytale castle they dwarfed everything in the vicinity making even the river seem like a stream in comparison. White water gushed through more yellow rocks that jutted above the surface before it calmed into a wide fast, fast flowing river of unknown depths. The swampland stretched a mile behind them and another half mile ahead with tall reeds and grasses giving way to lily pads and giant duckweed  in the deeper water.

"They roost in the caves," Emerick said, stowing her binoculars and beginning another trudge through the mud. "I haven't been in there, but I have seen them landing and taking off from the second tower."

The Doctor grimaced as more cold water flooded his boots. He donned his sonic sunglasses, scanning the pillars with a scowl. "The second tower is accessible, there's a path to the right, leading up to the back of the waterfall."

"I need a pair of those."

The Doctor snapped the glasses arms shut and pushed them back into his inside pocket, "Limited edition."

Emerick rolled her eyes, "Not much further."

"You have a boat?"

She smirked into her own shoulder, wiping a splash of dirt from her lips, "Of sorts. It's not like we came equipped for every possible situation."

"No," the Doctor growled, "But you managed to pack enough ammunition for two wars."

It was Emerick's turn to scowl, "X-ray glasses?"

"They have their uses."

Emerick flashed glare over her shoulder, "And you've never used weapons? I'm not a fool, Doctor, you're as much of a soldier as I am."

"Irrelevant."

She spun around and poked a finger at the Doctor's chest, leaving a muddy smear on his shirt. Emerick brought her face close to his, her black eyes wide and furious.

"I am getting immensely tired of your attitude, old man," tiny specks of saliva flicked from Emerick's lips as her frustrations boiled. "I'm letting you tag along, don't you realise that? This isn't about the elixir, what use is that to me now? Even if it does exist who am I going to save? My people are dead! My friends, my family, everyone I have ever known has been dead so long their bones have turned to dust. I owe Clara my life, and I will repay that debt."

She pressed closer to him, leaning her weight though the extended finger and in to his chest. 

"This isn't for you, because it seems to me you are just like the other Time Lords. Arrogant and self-serving. Your species is well known for ignoring the rest of the universe, even when worlds are burning. How many races came to your aid in the war, Time Lord? None, at the last count. And how many worlds did your war destroy? Did you even count? Did you even care?"

The Doctor met her stare with unnerving calm, holding his position without wavering as Emerick's weight pushed hard into one spot on his sternum.

"Four."

Emerick blinked, "What?"

"You asked how many worlds were destroyed. I counted. There were four individual worlds. Three populated systems and two entire species."

The pressure on his chest eased a fraction.

"The Zygons, Gelth, Animus and the Eternals lost their worlds. The Zygons found a home on Earth with a little help from me along the way. The Eternals fled the galaxy, the Animus were destroyed."

"And the Gelth?" Emerick pushed.

A flicker of sorrow crossed his face, "I tried to save them, but in the end they made me chose between the Humans and the Gelth."

Taut lines cut into Emerick's cheeks, "So you can save Humans but not the Yalanthi?"

The Doctor sighed and cocked his head, averting his gaze.

"Let me guess," she sneered, "It's complicated?"

"Yes. It is." he snapped, his eyebrows knotting tighter. 

Emerick refused to move and swapped her accusing finger for a full palm against his chest. She felt his hearts thumping against her flesh with startling clarity.

"You are an eloquent man," she told him, "Explain how the Humans can be saved."

"I have seen the end of the universe, there were humans. A world full of them. They are an intriguing, obstinate, self-destructive race, with the tenacity to survive trillions of years." He met her eyes again, a softness creeping in at the edges, softening the harsh lines, "I can only apologise so many times for not being able to save the Yalanthi. After awhile it begins to sound trite."

"This isn't about saving the Yalanthi..."

"Yes," he interrupted, "I'm afraid it is.  You are angry and you are hurting. Everything you know has been taken from you, in a second. By the time we leave here another 2000 years will have passed in the rest of the universe. You will be a relic of a time long forgotten. And to make it worse you find this out from an arrogant, angry man who has the power to change everything, but refuses to do so. You wonder how your family died. Were they alone? Did anyone tend them on the death beds? Did anyone bury them? Do they even have graves?"

Emerick's fingers slackened on his shirt, her hand slipped lower and fell away.  

"I can't take that pain away," he continued in a soft, knowing voice, "And I am not going to lie to you. It will burn in your soul for a very, very long time. Too long if you let it. But, I will tell you this. You can be angry with me as long as you need if that's what it takes to help find Clara, because she is the one person that makes living with my guilt even marginally bearable. I will not lose her."  

 


	4. Part 4

#  Part 4

The side of the pool was like a slide rolled smooth by the tumbling water. Clara slipped across the smooth surface hitting the water feet first. Plummeting below the surface she continued to slide along the long curved contour air bubbles popping from her nose as she thrashed and struggled to slow her descent. Following the shape of the curved sides when she reached the bottom of the pool there was no sudden impact but instead Clara ended up on her back looking up through the crystal waters to the amber sky above.

A vibrant smile cracked across Clara's face as, in a long moment of appreciation, she stared up at the world above her, artistically framed by the pool's edge. The image shimmered where the waterfall's overflow sloshed into the pool and a snort of laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation surfaced in her mind. Inhaling the clear, cold water automatically after her snort Clara began to choke. With a shove on from the pool’s floor she pushed towards the surface with a clumsy, but effective, combination of breaststroke and front crawl. She burst through the surface of the water sucking in the fresh air, spluttering and gasping as her lungs complained at the cold and the exertion.

Clara swum to the side nearest to solid land and groped with numb fingers, searching for something solid to lever herself out of the water. Beneath the surface her boots kicked and scraped at the smooth side of the pool, her legs getting heavier by the second. Finding nothing to hold on to Clara’s stomach turned to lead and her amused grin was washed away. The fingers of her right hand slipped into her trouser pocket in search of the key but in her heart she knew it was no longer there.

“When did I get so superstitious?” she gasped, hearing her teeth chattering as she spoke.

There was an almighty roar from the waterfall behind her. Not the sound of water, but the rage of the hyaenas that had followed her scent and were now beating the air with the great wings in their search for their missing prisoner.

Clara groaned, “Well that’s me, out of all options except for blind luck.”

Taking a deep breath she shoved her head below the surface and scoured the pool floor for the missing key. With lungs beginning to burn she had almost given up when she saw it sitting, in a dimple, at the very centre of the pool. Lifting her head she could hear, once more, the sounds of the approaching beasts and saw the alpha making his way across the front of the waterfall, following her scent. Clara took one long, slow, breath, emptying her lungs completely before quickly sucking in as much oxygen as she could manage and ducking beneath the surface. The dive was  frantic and inelegant. Clara’s body resisted as she pushed her arms and legs hard, willing the water to part before her as she reached out, clawing for the chain that sat, tantalizingly close but just out of reach.

The sound of the alpha’s impact on the water reached Clara a fraction of a second before the heavy claws began to curl around her abdomen. She struggled, swimming  and rolling sideways, her movements slowed by the water. Inside her chest her heart pumped hard against her ribcage. She dove down further, pressing her chest and stomach to the floor of the pool like a child diving for bricks. Her fingers curled around the key at the same moment that the mighty foot found her. Claws curled around her body and she was lifted towards the surface in an absurd superhero pose, arm still outstretched, hand clenched in a fist. The grip compressed her ribs, forcing the last of the oxygen from her body in a rush of bubbles. The edges of her vision began to dim. In desperation Clara wrapped the key’s fine chain around her fingers, hoping it would not fall from her grip when she blacked out.

Thrashing wings crashed through the surface of the water, beating hard to raise the beast into the air from a standing start. A terrible, high pitched whistle cut through Clara’s head and as her vision faded completely she thought she felt the breeze against her skin.

The hyaena’s wings thumped the air and a howl retched from its mouth as the ear splitting whistle cut an agonising path through its brain. Its foot clung on to Clara’s limp body but its eyes were fixed on the two other figures that had clambered into view. The thin, dark, one with black holes for eyes approached fearlessly. With every step the sound grew louder. The alpha spat through bared teeth, hunched its back and tried to take off all in one movement, but with one foot clutching its prey and the back feet slipping over the edge of the rock it was a battle it could not win.

With his grip failing the alpha knew he was temporarily beaten. With a rage filled roar it released Clara’s body back into the pool and with all four feet free it was able to scramble forward and threw itself over the lip of the pool into a free fall. The huge wings spread wide, billowed in the wind and the creature flew away.

“Clara!” the Doctor called, breaking into a run.

Emerick was faster. Brushing past the Doctor she skidded to a stop by the edge of the pool, dropped her backpack from her shoulders and dove in. Despite her clothes and boots Emerick was swift. Clara floated motionless on her back in the centre of the pool but Emerick reached her in only a few strokes. Grasping Clara’s chin with her left hand Emerick towed in with scissors kicks and a strong leading arm.

“She’s breathing,” Emerick gasped as she she pushed Clara into the Doctor’s waiting arms. “Top pocket of my bag, mauve packet. Stick it to the back of her hand.”

The Doctor lifter Clara with surprising ease and carried her a few steps to a spot in the sun, close to Emerick’s kit bag. Despite Emerick’s reassurances he placed his fingers into the side of Clara’s throat and, feeling her strong pulse, he reached for Emerick’s pack. Behind him Emerick dragged herself over the rim of the pool and hurried over, tugging the bag from the Doctor’s grasp with an exasperated sound escaping her lips.

“I said top pocket.”

Emerick took the small mauve packet from her bag and slapped the contents onto the back of Clara’s hand which was still closed in a tight fist. A silver chain looped around Clara’s fingers and from the end of it a tiny key dangled, it caught Emerick’s eye and she hesitated, lifting the tiny object on her forefinger delicately before catching herself and moving away, aware of the Doctor’s hard stare.

Clara coughed suddenly. Her eyes snapped open looking left and right, seeing Emerick first, then the Doctor, both on their knees at her side.

“Tell me you didn’t have to do mouth to mouth,” Clara said, deadpan, looking the Doctor in the eyes.

Emerick stifled a laugh as the Doctor’s jaw dropped open and he groped inarticulately for words. The sky above began to turn dark and the depth of his frown was lost in the changing light.

A broad grin spread across Clara’s face as she rolled onto one elbow, her back to Emerick.

“Gotcha.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the Doctor admonished. “You aren’t invincible, Clara Oswald. If we hadn’t been here you would have drowned.”

“Or suffocated,” Emerick added, offering Clara her drinking flask.

Clara took a swig of the liquid from the flask expecting water but receiving a hard liquor that burned her throat. She swallowed convulsively, eyes bulging, and handed the drink back to Emerick.

“Local delicacy,” the other woman told her with a grin, “Distilled it myself. It will help you warm up. You look frozen.”

“Thanks,” she spluttered and patted the Doctor’s hand. “I’m fine. And I had the key, I knew I’d be fine.”

The Doctor rose slowly to his feet, out of principle refusing to offer Clara his hand. She mirrored his scowl for a second before breaking into another grin and giving him an impromptu hug.

“The key is a lucky charm. It doesn’t make you immortal."

The Doctor made a performance of resisting Clara’s embrace before wrapping his arms tightly around her and whispering into her ear, “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

“How did you find me?” Clara asked, releasing the Doctor without an apology for wetting his clothes with her sopping hug.

He nodded in Emerick’s direction, “Our friend, Emerick, knows the lay of the land. She’s been here a very long time. She had even built a one man coracle to cross the river.”

“But there are two of you?”

“It was a very tight squeeze and there was a considerable amount of bailing out.”

Emerick turned her back on the reunion allowing her own smile to drop and brushing away the moisture that had formed in her eye. How long had it been since she had last hugged anyone with that much intensity? A few hours or ten thousand years, depending on your perspective. Crouching down, ostensibly to repack her kit, Emerick hugged her knees to her chest, containing her urge to cry. Fragments of the conversation behind her reached her ears. Clara’s adventure. The Doctor’s explanation for the time difference. Clara’s measured intake of breath as she realised how long Emerick had been trapped. Pulling herself back to her feet Emerick took a slug of the alcohol herself and felt it dislodge the hard lump that had formed in her throat. Now was not the time for self pity. She would have a lifetime to dwell, if they ever got out of there.

For the first time since Emerick had arrived it looked like night was drawing in. All around them the darkness was deepening as a cloud covered the distant sun. Emerick craned her neck backwards, the vertebrae clicking with the movement. Above them, circling slowly lower, was the whole hyaena pack.

“If you two are finished catching up now would be a really good time to get moving,” Emerick swung her bag onto her back and pointed to the sky.

“I think we made them angry,” the Doctor observed. “It’s probably rather easy to do. They’re all muscle and very little brain. Rather like the people in that bar…”

“This way,” Emerick instructed, leading them along a narrow ledge with a steep drop at either side.

“Where are we going?” Clara teetered awkwardly behind Emerick unaware of the Doctor’s hand that was poised to grab her shirt at the first sign of a fall.

Emerick jumped over a wide crack in the path. Clara, whose legs felt more unsteady than she was prepared to admit, gritted her teeth and took a leap of faith, glad of Emerick’s extended hand which held her steady.

“We can’t fight them and we can’t out run them,” Emerick told her, pausing to catch the Doctor’s jacket sleeve as he joined them on the increasingly narrow path. “Our only hope is the tunnels beyond the next ridge.”

A chorus of roaring began to fill the air. The hyaena were closing in.

Clara looked at the Doctor, her eyes bright and alive with excitement as she said cheerfully, “Shall we run?”

  
  


The next ridge, a rocky outcrop that jutted perpendicularly to the ground, loomed above them. The orange rock curled, wave like, at the top, and a series of small, dark holes, were dotted along the face. Emerick led the charge, her pack banging against her back. Over the din of the circling hyaena Emerick’s voice could just be heard, bellowing encouragement. Clara followed a few steps behind and the Doctor lagged further back, adjusting his sonic shades as he ran, pausing to shift his gaze skyward, refocus and readjust the settings.

The hyaena pack was closing in. They flew as one in a mass of darkness, twenty or more grouped in a diamond formation with the alpha leading. Despite their lumbering flight they were faster than the scurrying humanoids on the ground and they were gaining rapidly.

Clara’s leg throbbed as she ran. The limb felt like lead and it was getting harder to lift her foot clear of the floor. Tearing her gaze from Emerick’s back she looked over her shoulder to see the Doctor tapping the glasses in frustration. Losing her concentration Clara felt her toe drag across the earth, catch on a rock, and send her tumbling just as the alpha’s claws were about to snag her. With a grunt she fell onto her back, the air knocked out of her lungs.

“Clara!” the Doctor, just four steps behind, was with her almost instantly. Spinning in the dust he turned the volume on the sonic shades up to full and the air was permeated with a fluctuating pitch of whistles that vibrated the molecules around them so violently that the air began to shimmer.

“Just breathe, Clara.” He said without taking his eyes off the sky. His hand found Clara’s shoulder and pulled her into a crouch where he heard her inhale more freely.

Emerick’s boots kicked dirt over them both as she skidded back to a stop. Without a word she hauled Clara to her knees, onto her feet and then over her shoulder. Clara, who had no breath to argue, found her eyes stinging with tears as Emerick began to jog the last hundred metres. The Doctor jogged backwards, glaring at the sky as the hyaena followed, their ears beginning to bleed from the sound.

Clara found herself being flung, with relative care, into a narrow tunnel. She crawled a little way until she came to a bowl where they could sit, cramped, together. Far enough away from the entry point to be safe. The Doctor slid her left, Emerick to her right, both peering at her closely.

“I’m fine!”

The eyebrows knotted together and the sunglasses looked directly into her eyes, “Dehydration, mild hypoxia and low blood sugar.”

A slender finger pulled the glasses down his nose and Clara looked him directly in the eyes, “Did you programme the shades for medical terminology just to make it sound more impressive?”

“Clara, would I do such a thing?” he replied, sticking the glasses back inside his jacket.

A water bottle and a wrapped bar of food landed in Clara’s lap. She looked up to see Emerick fastening her bag once more before handing the Doctor a similar package and opening a different coloured one herself.

Clara’s smile of appreciation slipped into a controlled grimace of pain as Emerick pulled apart the tear in her trousers to press something cold and slimy against the skin of her injured leg. Green gel spread along the length of the swelling, purple, bruise by itself, cooling the area. The relief made Clara light headed. Reflexively she leant into the wall, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as she fought her body’s urge to black out. Something cool brushed against her face and when Clara opened her eyes she was surprised to find the Doctor’s hand cupping her cheek, a concerned frown creasing his forehead.

“I’m fine,” she said seriously, patting his hand. “That stuff is amazing. I didn’t realise it hurt so much until it suddenly stopped.”

“Internal bleeding,” Emerick said through a mouthful of the foil wrapped food. She looked at the Doctor and a twisted smile of superiority and humour crossed her lips. “You might want to try scanning the whole body next time, if you want an actual diagnosis. The gel is nano-tec, any damage will be repaired as soon as it is fully absorbed.”

Clara bit her lip and concentrated on opening the food pack, watching as the Doctor coiled himself into a more comfortable position whilst feigning nonchalance.  The food was grey, a dehydrated and unappealing concoction of seeds and grains which obviously passed for emergency provisions. Clara ate it slowly, drinking plenty of water to wash away the taste.

“Is there a plan?” Emerick’s question broke the silence.

“Well we aren’t going back the way we came,” the Doctor groused in a thick Scottish drawl.

“You got what you were searching for,” Emerick glanced from the Doctor to Clara and back again, “I haven’t. I know I can’t save my people. I know you won’t help me… can’t… help me do that. But I need to finish my quest. It’s been 10,000 years. I have to know if any of this was really worth it.”

“So you have a plan?” the Doctor countered.

Emerick shook her head, “Not really. I thought you would be finding the fastest route back to your ship. I was going to ask for the key, and leave you to it.”

Indignation wrote itself across Clara’s face, “You cannot seriously be thinking about staying here alone.”

“I have no family to return to. My whole species died. I am a relic, out of place and out of time,” Emerick’s chin dropped towards her chest, shoulders rounded in defeat. “I would like to know if I could have saved them, or if I have wasted my time.”

Clara reached out, placing her hand on Emerick’s arm, and felt the other woman tense at her touch.

“Please?” Emerick looked up into Clara’s eyes, “May I take the key?”

With a short nod Clara reached for the chain but found the Doctor had reached forward and grabbed her wrist tightly, keeping her fingers away from the pocket.

“Doctor?” Clara frowned, “It’s a bit late to destroy it. Fel-har-dai has been found without the key’s help anyway.”

“We’ll come with you,” the Doctor told Emerick firmly, “But the key stays in Clara’s pocket until we are safely back at the TARDIS.”

“I don’t want your help,” Emerick insisted, “And I don’t want to cause you any more harm. Please, just let me have the key and we can go our separate ways.”

Clara tried to reach for the key again but the Doctor’s grip was firm and unyielding.

“It’s non negotiable,” the Doctor insisted, his knuckles turning white around Clara’s wrist.

Emerick hesitated, sighed and finally nodded. Clara shook herself free of the Doctor’s grip and stared at him with a silent question that he declined to answer.

“We better get moving then,” the Doctor slid passed them both and began a fast paced, crouching walk, along the tunnel. “Time waits for no-one.”

The tunnel ran gradually down hill, it’s diameter fluctuating minimally forcing bent knees and backs for most of the journey. The dark was broken up by a pale blue beam of light generated by the sonic shades and the stronger, white light of Emerick’s torch which cast angular shadows all around them. Eventually the tunnel developed a fork and the Doctor hesitated.

“We should go right,” Emerick’s torch flickered down the passageway.

Three pairs of eyes followed the torch light. The beam ran out before it lit up anything of any interest. There was little to differentiate between the two options, both dark and increasingly cold.

“I agree,” Clara volunteered, taking a step in that direction.

The Doctor turned and stared at her intently giving Clara the distinct impression that he was scanning her with the sonic again.

“I can feel it, the key. It’s telling me which way to go,” subconsciously her fingers slipped into the pocket of her jeans and rubbed the key.

Emerick moved forward, taking the lead this time. Clara followed and the Doctor lingered behind, scanning the tunnel walls with an infra-red light that illuminated every mark scratched into the soft sandstone surface before walking steadily on, keeping Clara and Emerick within sight.

Light began to filter into the tunnel ahead of them, not the bright light of a sun, or the crystal light of a moon, but a red and orange glow that licked the floor in front of them. Emerick’s pace slowed until she stopped, a few feet from the mouth of the tunnel, blocking the exit for her companions.

“What is it?” Clara asked, trying to peer past Emerick’s shoulder. The red light flickered erratically and heat blew across her skin.

“I think Emerick has something to tell us,” the Doctor’s Scottish drawl hung heavily between them.

Emerick looked at the floor, unwilling to meet the Doctor’s eyes.

“Please, do go ahead,” he said, “Or would you like me to make the assumptions?”

Clara looked from Emerick to the Doctor and back again. Neither made a move to speak.

“Oh for goodness sake!” Clara threw her hands in the air, “It’s pretty clear you’ve been here before, Emerick. And, quite honestly, it’s a pretty good thing or I’d have drowned back there at the waterfall.”

“The question is, why have you been lying?”

The silence was heavy. A cold stare from the Doctor cut through Emerick and whilst she avoided meeting his gaze she could feel the accusations piercing her skin. Between them, Clara hesitated, waiting.

The tension broke Emerick first.

“I didn’t want you to come here. I never wanted to put either of you in danger. All you had to do was give me the key. If you had just done the one thing I asked you could have flown away, left me here.”

Something a fraction short of a snarl formed on the Doctor’s lips.

“And let you fill yourself with the ambrosia of the gods? Just what the universe needs, another immortal with a weapon and half a brain cell.”

Emerick opened her mouth to respond but the Doctor ignored her.

“So what was the plan? Elixir plus Time Lord equals salvation? Despite everything I said? Did you think Clara would give you the key and…”

“I thought if I could find it quickly I could get back out, find you and help you get back to your ship.” Emerick exploded, throwing her hands wide.

“Where you’d tell us you had found nothing and ask to be taken back to your home time and planet to die with your family.”

The Time Lord’s cold, hard voice pulled Emerick to her full height. Eyes on fire she strode towards him, shoulders squared, nostrils wide.

“I had to try. For my people, for my family. Would you have done anything less? What would you have done to save Gallifrey, Doctor?”

“What haven’t I done to save the universe? For centuries I believed I had burned my world. That I had killed everyone I had ever known, ripped the entire planet from the fabric of space and time to save every other world from the war. And then I meet people like you and I wonder, was it worth it?”

Emerick pushed in closer, her breath on his neck, fists clenched at her sides, the muscles in her jaw pulsing. With the illumination behind her Emerick’s face was in shadow but her normally black eyes burned with a vibrant red fire.

“But you saved your own kind, didn’t you? In the end? Doesn’t that affect the time lines? Or are the Time Lords so superior, so aloof, that their presence in the universe makes no impact on time at all?”

His angry eyebrows furrowed with the thick lines of a frown that met at the bridge of his nose. The expression crawled down to his cheeks making his face wolf like in the dim light of the passage.

“The fate of the Time Lords has nothing to do with this. You were trying to trick me into changing history. You do not have the right to meddle with time. No-one does. I can see it all, from beginning to end, life and death playing out before me. I can feel the turn of the universe, the energy of the stars, and I know when lives can be saved and when there is no choice but to let them die. Your people are no less or more worthy than anyone else. Call it what you like, fate, god, pure luck. We all live for our allotted time and we die whether we are ready to or not. Deal with it.”

“Alright!” Clara’s voice rose between them, strong, loud and full of authority.  “That’s enough! Emerick Hale back up a pace. Doctor, put the eyebrows away. This is not helping.”

Surprise replaced the anger in Emerick’s eyes for just long enough for her to take a step back as Clara had ordered. The Doctor, clearly more used to Clara’s tone did not move, but his face lost some of its tension.

“Thank you,” Clara held in the sigh that ached to escape. “Emerick, your people are gone, and if the Doctor says he can’t change it, then he can’t change it….”

Clara looked across at the Doctor, looking for reassurance. Rule one, the Doctor lies. It didn’t sound like a lie.

“Tidal waves,” he offered with a distinct lack of grace. “Save three million, nine-hundred thousand, five hundred and seventeen people who should have died, that’s not even a tidal wave. That’s a tsunami.”

“I still had to try.” Emerick’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You understand that, don’t you?”

The Doctor nodded, “I was counting on it.”

Fire re-ignited in Emerick’s eyes and she stepped forward to be met by Clara’s hand on her chest, holding her back.

“Doctor?” Clara glared at him.

“I came here to make sure no-one else could join the immortality club. I thought this place could only be found with the key. I was wrong, there’s a first time for everything. Now the walls are broken Fel-har-dai is sweet shop without the shopkeeper. It is imperative that I make sure the elixir, if there is one, is destroyed.”

“You can’t be serious!” Emerick pushed against Clara’s restraining hand, trying to get closer to the Doctor. “You want to destroy something that could be used to cure and heal?”

“If it makes you immortal in the process. Yes. Absolutely.”

“But...”

A renewed intensity in the Doctor low, cold, voice drew Emerick in.

“Think about how you feel, right now. Focus on it until your heart bleeds. You have lost everything you have ever loved. Does it burn? Is it carving a hole inside of you? Go into that feeling. Live in it. Breath it. Do you want to scream? Cry? Is there anything you wouldn’t do to change it?”

“How did you know?” Emerick croaked.

“Excuse me?”

“That three million, nine-hundred thousand, five hundred and seventeen Yalanthi died?”

His grey eyes met Emerick’s with profound sorrow. “Do you think that, with so many lives at stake, I hadn’t already tried to save them?”

Clara’s hand slipped from Emerick’s shoulder and her gaze turned to the Doctor. He stood motionless, a mask across his face that concealed everything but the ghosts in his eyes.

“With a hole that big inside you you’re dangerous,” he continued softly, “There are enough immortals already. They aren’t gods, they aren’t even great. They are just people who deserved better luck.”

“Okay,” Emerick whispered. She cleared her throat and found a stronger voice, “I get it. Being immortal, or unreasonably old, has some significant downsides.”

A slight, skewed, incline of the head was all the response she received from the Time Lord as he straightened his shoulders and rubbed a dust spot from his lapel.

“What’s out there?” Clara pointed to the end of the tunnel. “Why did you stop here?”

Emerick turned to look at the mouth of the tunnel and felt warm air on the breeze.

“Fire. A wall of fire and magma as far as I can see, even with the binoculars. It’s the only part of this puzzle I haven’t been able to beat. There’s a steep path down, narrow and awkward. I was going to ask you for the key again,” she closed her eyes in apology, “I didn’t want either of you to be hurt.”

“The key stays with Clara,” the Doctor moved passed them both, striding towards the end of the tunnel.

Clara caught Emerick’s frown of question and raised her hands and shoulders in a gesture of ignorance on the subject. Then with a smile she followed the Doctor.


	5. Part 5

**Part 5**

Intense heat funnelled down the narrow passageway turning the small space into a impromptu sauna. Twenty foot from the tunnel mouth Clara’s face began to prickle with sweat and Emerick’s wiped the slick perspiration from her hands onto her combat trousers. With the increased heat came brighter light and the torches were extinguished leaving a red and orange flickering light to guide their way. Clara’s hand trailed along the wall as she walked, the light making it difficult for her to focus clearly but the Doctor stalked ahead impatient and determined.

“Is he always like this?” Emerick asked.

Clara nodded, “Not always. You have hit at least two of his hare-triggers since we met, and he wasn’t in the best of moods before we started.”

“How do I make it up to him?”

Surprised, Clara stopped and turned to look at Emerick. Sincerity was written in the tight lines around her eyes. Clara placed a reassuring hand on her arm.

“He’ll get over it. Just don’t try anything heroic. That will only make him worse.”

“Are you two going to keep chatting or can we get on with this?” the Doctor’s frustrated shout ricocheted off the walls.

The tunnel ended on a narrow ledge of rock that jutted out no more than two feet from the rock wall. A vast cavern stretched in every direction, wide and seemingly endless. No natural light came from above and the inferno below threw giant shadows along the walls making the hundred foot drop to the cavern floor an artist ’s muse for the depths of hell. As Emerick had described the ledge extended to the left, a natural formation that sloped slowly down towards the flames.

Clara leant towards the edge and inhaled slowly. “Is that sulphur in the air?”

The Doctor nodded. “That’s not fire, that’s magma.”

“We’re inside a volcano?”

Emerick shook her head, “No, I don’t think so. I’ve scouted above ground. The main volcano is a long walk north of here.”

“If we’re lucky this is a secondary vent and there may be a way out of here from below,” the Doctor pushed his sonic shades down his nose and looked at the pit with his naked eyes. “If we’re unlucky this is a dike, a blocked secondary vent which has been cut off by solidified lava.”

“Okay, so totally not my subject but how can we survive?”

“I know we shouldn’t be able to get that close, but I’ve been down there,” Emerick said, “It’s hard to breath, hotter than the centre of a sun, but it doesn’t kill you.”

“Fantastic,” Clara took another look at the path, “Slow roasting.”

The Doctor’s face was grim, “Incineration in a matter of seconds if you end up in the magma. That would kill any of us.”

They made steady progress in their descent. Despite Emerick’s protestations the Doctor took the lead, walking slowly but without any perceivable caution straight down the path turning, on narrow segments, not to face the rock wall but his back to it. Clara had never been afraid of heights but the Doctor’s cavalier attitude made her blood run cold and it was all she could do not to shout her angry fear at him.

Emerick had clearly studied the path well on her previous trips. She called out warnings when the Doctor strode further ahead and though he waved her concerns off with a dismissive flexing of the hand he avoided each obstacle without a hitch in his pace. The path ran at a gradual decline in most places, interspersed with steeper angles and a number of switchbacks. Occasional rock falls slowed their travel. The heat grew more oppressive, Clara opting to keep her sweater over her arms despite the sweat that made it stick to her like a second skin. Emerick paused long enough to shrug off her pack, pulling her shirt over her head exposing a wet vest that clung to her chest. Without the long sleeves Clara could see that Emerick’s skin was not the same shade of blue all over, her hands were dark but from her elbows up the pigment was more pale. The gravel tracks in her face continued across the front of her chest and along one shoulder leaving the skin there almost completely white.

With a smile the woman noted Clara’s observations.

“Sun tan,” she told the human cheerfully, “My kind go darker in the sun. Some of my people lived in the frozen south of the colony, they were almost as white as your teeth all over, except for their hands and faces.”

“Some humans get sun tanned too.” Clara helped lift the bag back onto Emerick’s back, her fingers touching the rough skin at the woman’s shoulder by accident.

Emerick winced. “No, it’s okay,” she said halting Clara’s apology. “It’s shrapnel.  There was an accident before I left home, exploded a cannister of ball-bearings in a drunken stunt with Theos. He took the brunt of the blast, ended up in the hospital wing for a week having them pulled out of his behind. I never confessed to my part in it, so I got to keep the reminder. The ones in the shoulder are the worst, carrying the pack irritates them.”

“He must have loved you very much.”

Her companion nodded. “It was mutual.”

“How did he die?”

Emerick closed her eyes and pushed away the wave of guilt filled grief that threatened to bring tears. “He fell, when we were mapping the waterfall where we found you. I was showing off, climbing higher, faster. I didn’t even hear his cry. When I turned he was gone.”

Clara reached over and squeezed Emerick’s arm reassuringly.

“I found his pack wash up on the edge of the river a while later. He probably saved my life, even after he was dead. Without his supplies I would have starved.”

“Do you think the Women’s Institute meeting could wait until we aren’t walking along a narrow, degrading path over boiling magma?”

Both women turned to see the Doctor scowling up up them from the path below, another switchback was just ahead.

“We’re coming,” Clara replied before Emerick snapped again. “Don’t get too far ahead.”

“If you spent less time gossiping you wouldn’t fall so far behind,” he retorted, but Clara could pick out the subtle difference in his face and knew he was, mostly, teasing her.

“Can you wait there?” Clara asked, “I promise we won’t say another word until we catch up.”

Clara’s request was met with rolled eyes, a slight shake of the head, and something that sounded rather like ‘hurry up’ but the words were lost in a flare from the volcano. Emerick picked up the pace and they found the next switchback a few meters ahead of them. The crumbling edges of the turn disintegrated at their footfall and one or two lumps of rock tumbled away beneath them, landing in a small secondary pool of magma causing a spurt of molten rock to shoot, vertically, about 10 feet.

The Doctor, of course, had not waited for them. Clara muttered expletives under her breath but Emerick’s face took on an expression of concern.

“What is it?” Clara asked with an uneasy sense of impending doom.

“There’s a section just ahead that is becoming unstable. Last time I was here I felt it give,” Emerick tightened the straps of her bag making it cling more tightly to her back. “I’m going to try and catch up. Please, Clara. Take your time. When I reach the Doctor he is bound to wait for you.”

Without pausing for a reply Emerick set off at a quickened pace. Dancing over the craggy rocks that half consumed the path with a stride not far from a run she was quickly out of Clara’s sight. The most dangerous section of the path loomed ahead of her. Here a ceiling to rock jutted out at shoulder height, forcing walkers to stoop and take their eyes from the path ahead. Underfoot loose fragments of rock slid beneath boots and the path narrowed to arms length in places, the foundations of the path giving way without warning.

In a crab-like movement she negotiated the first section, moving sideways, face to the wall, eyes on the path just in front of her at all times. Climbing over a small rock fall Emerick ignored the sweat that was beginning to drip into her eyes and focused on a point ten steps ahead of her where the ceiling rose but path had disappeared completely.

“Doctor?” Emerick called as she inched closer.

The dirt at the edge of the gap danced as though a snake was moving just below the surface. Emerick blinked and stared harder until she was sure she could see fingers gripping path floor. Dropping onto her stomach Emerick thrust her arm down into the hole and her fingers found grip on the fabric of the Doctor’s jacket. The cloud of dust that had billowed into the air with her sudden movement began to settle and Emerick looked down at the grime covered face of the Doctor who was staring back up at her.

“Hang on,” she instructed, readjusting her grip so that she held his arm tightly in her hand.

A scowl sat on his forehead which Emerick could not help but think was directed at her.

“Where’s Clara?”

“Priorities, Doctor,” Emerick reached down with her other hand and gripped his other elbow tightly, “You might want to consider getting back up here before worrying about anything else.”

“Clara is my first priority,” his fingers scrabbled in the dust as he slipped a little away from Emerick’s grasp.

“She’s fine,” she said, “I came ahead because you didn’t wait and she was worried. You two are as bad as each other.”

Emerick felt herself be tugged towards the edge by the Doctor’s weight. If she slipped another few inches she would be pulled straight down after him. The Doctor was clearly aware of the same problem and, as he tried to crane his neck to see how far the fall was, another precious inch of ground was lost.

“How far down is it?” he demanded.

“Forget it,” Emerick told him, “There’s a pool of magma almost directly beneath you.”

“Which way and how far is the drop?”

“To your left. Forty feet.” Emerick was gritting her teeth now, her arms were starting to tire already.

The Doctor breathed deeply. Every second wasted increased the chances of fatality. He could feel the tremor developing in Emerick’s hands, his own muscles were beginning to ache with the effort of holding on to the fragile path edge.

“Let go.”

Emerick’s eyes widened, “You have got to be joking.”

“On the count of three I am going to let go of this ledge. If you are still holding on to me when that happens we are both going to fall. Our combined weights will force us into the magma. For once in your life, Emerick Hale, do what I am asking.”

They slipped again. The Doctor was hanging on by his fingertips now and a third of Emerick’s torso was over the edge.

“If this doesn’t work tell Clara not to let go of that key until she’s in the TARDIS and to use the physic interface to get home.”

Emerick grunted her agreement, the pressure on her chest now too much to allow words. The Doctor’s lips pulled into a strange grimace of a smile and Emerick realised it was the first sign of real appreciation  he had offered her since they met.

And then he let go.

 

As the Doctor’s weight left Emerick’s grip she inhaled deeply. Sulphur stung her lungs as she rolled onto her side, gasping for more oxygen than the atmosphere possessed. Still wheezing she lurched onto her knees, reaching out to grab the rock wall to steady her. Instead she found Clara’s hand gripping her arm, holding her upright. Emerick felt her heart sink into her stomach.

Clara understood the look in Emerick’s face all too well. She clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening around Emerick’s arm now as much for her own support as to stop the other woman falling.

“What happened?” the words were barely above a whisper.

Emerick gestured to the hole in front of them, “I tried to hold on. There was nothing I could do.”

Clara’s cheeks, red from the heat, lost their colour. Forcing herself not to collapse she stiffened every muscle in her body, slid passed Emerick and peered over the edge of the path to the boiling magma below. With regal stoicism she tightened the line of her mouth, clenched her teeth and, taking three steps back leapt the gap cleanly, landing with room to spare on the other side. With an imperceptible sigh of relief she turned and looked back at Emerick who blew out her cheeks in amazement.

“You are insane, Clara Oswald.”

“Maybe,” Clara agreed, “But it’s got me this far without too much damage. Are you coming?”

The hesitation in Emerick’s response made Clara look again at the void between the two edges of the path. The gap was more than six feet long. She had landed two feet clear on the other side. Clara felt in her pocket for the key and clasped it tightly within her fingers as she withdrew her hand from her pocket.

“I’m going to throw you the key,” she stepped closer the the edge, “Put it in your pocket and jump. You’ll be fine.”

Emerick shook her head firmly and retreated, “No. Put the key back in your pocket. The Doctor said you weren’t to let it go until you were back in the TARDIS.”

Clara’s arm pulled back in a throwing motion.

“It’s the last thing he said to me. Clara, stop. Don’t let go of that key. Not even for a second!”

Even the volcano was silent for a second as Clara absorbed Emerick’s words. Slowly she returned the key to her pocket and extended an open hand.

“I’ll catch you.”

Without another second of hesitation Emerick broke into a long stride, leaping clear of the gap and landing awkwardly was steadied by Clara. With a brief inclination of her head in thanks Emerick pointed to a distant spot where the shadows covered the path.

“That’s the last switchback. From there the path is easy and we will be able to make good speed. If he made it to solid ground we will find him Clara, I promise.”

“He made it,” Clara said two steps behind, placing her feet in exactly the same foot holes as Emerick.

Fixing her eyes on the path Emerick did not look back, “How do you know?”

“Trust me,” came the response firmly, “This is a normal day for us. He’ll be there.”

From her position in front Emerick could not see the single tear that Clara wiped a tear from her eye.

When they reached the floor of the cavern Clara followed her instincts, knowing they were enhanced by the good luck charm in her jeans. Breaking in to a jog she skirted around pools of steaming magma feeling the heat burning her bare skin. Puddles of grey custard with thick, dark, skins sat innocuously between boiling pots of fire. A near miss schooled Clara that these cooling pools were equally lethal as a rock fell, breaking the surface tension and sending hot liquid into the air.  

Both their faces were dripping with sweat and Clara had long since given up wiping away the perspiration from her eyes, fairly convinced that it was the evaporation that was stopping her from spontaneously combusting.

Emerick’s shout forced Clara’s attention from the ground. Following the direction of the other woman’s stare she saw a bundle of black and red balled up at the side of one of the larger pools.

“Doctor!” Clara’s voice was thick, her throat filled with dust and heat. Her legs found a renewed energy and Clara broke into a run, adrenalin fuelling speed and focus. From the corner of her eye she saw Emerick mirroring her movements on the opposite site of a deep, bubbling pool.

The rocky ground punished Clara’s knees as she skidded to the Doctor’s side in a fair impression of a baseball player’s slide for home. The Time Lord was half curled in a ball and lying on his right side in the dust. Hands sparking with regeneration energy wrapped tightly around his left ankle and his dirt smeared face was contorted with a mixture of pain and concentration. Bared teeth allowed a pained hiss to punctuate the air as his hands gripped the ankle with more force.

Clara’s arm swept under the Doctor’s raised head, fingers closing around his right shoulder easing the strain on his neck as her forearm formed a makeshift pillow. He did not acknowledge her presence until the glowing in his hands stopped and his head lolled back in relief, beads of sweat running from his temples backwards into his hair.

“Hi,” he whispered softly. Adding more tartly, “You took your time.”

“Are you…okay?”

“Broke my ankle in the fall,” he muttered. “Regeneration is a lottery. Or maybe I’m finally getting old and the bones aren’t what they used to be.”

“I thought you were regenerating,” Clara confessed as she helped him to sit upright as Emerick ambled over to join them.

He shrugged, “I used a little regeneration energy to fix it. After I put the bone back in place. I don’t recommend either act.”

“You can’t keep doing that,” she scolded, “It will run out and then where will you be?”

“Dead,” he stood up and dust fell from his trousers leaving them almost clean again, “And I shouldn’t think I will be terribly worried about it by then.”

Clara glared at him, “You’re not funny.”

Emerick’s face broke into a grim smile, “No, but it is true.”

“Don’t encourage him.”

In the centre of the cavern the boiling magma belched a barrage of flame that reached violently for the ceiling and fell back as molten rain.The blast rattled the cave walls setting free a cascade of minor landslides. All around them small rock falls landed in the melting pots and the air was filled with fire and ash. The cacophony of noise was deafening. The three held their ground, standing so close together that Emerick could taste the fear and sweat in the air that was not her own. Magma fell inches from their feet, but only ash drifted leisurely to the ground to settle in their hair.

“It’s the key, isn’t it?” Clara shouted above the din, her hand snagging the Doctor’s as an another enormous explosion erupted starting the whole process off again.

He nodded, catching her fingers in his own and drawing her closer to him. To Emerick’s surprise the Doctor grabbed her hand too, although with significantly less affection, and pulled her to Clara’s other side.

“Emerick,” he pressed his mouth close to her ear and bellowed, “Get on the other side of Clara. Don’t let go of her hand. The key has bonded with her at a genetic level. Clara is literally our lucky charm.”

Emerick nodded and awkwardly took Clara’s other hand as the Doctor led them forward, a slow step at a time, towards the centre of the cave.

“Where are we going?” Clara asked, matching the Doctor’s steps precisely.

“Where else would you keep a secret of the gods but in the most protected place on the planet?” he asked.

The Doctor pointed to the very centre of the writhing magma pit where, if she squeezed her eyes almost shut and forced the sweat away from her pupils, Clara could just make out an island. She looked up at him, a cold lump of terror thudding into her stomach, and saw an excitement in his eyes that for once she did not share.

The Doctor grinned crookedly back at her.

“We’re going into the fire.”


	6. Part 6

#  Part 6

The heat was unbearable. From every side the magma rose up around them, squirting jets of molten rock into the air in ironic celebration of their impending demise. Ash drifted like heavy snow across their path and fragments of burning embers fell in every direction, always landing just a few inches from them and smouldering ominously on the floor with thick, sulphurous smoke.

They moved forward on the Doctor’s command. A few steps at a time, avoiding hot rocks and puddles of superheated rubble that stood in their way. Clara studied the Doctor’s steely face, set hard against the task at hand. Sweat trickled along the lines of his face and across the corner of his cold, steel grey eyes. Rarely had she seen him so grimly determined and utterly focused. He said nothing and it was his silence that most scared her. Clara had dismissed his dislike of immortals as a strange form of prejudice but now, watching him willingly risking their lives to prevent the creation of more, she wondered just what had happened with Ashildr to make him so afraid.  

As they approached the edge of the magma river the stench of sulphur became putrid, the foul odour of rotten eggs making Clara, and Emerick, heave. Their eyes streamed, the Doctor and Emerick did their best to wipe away the tears but Clara, her hands held tightly on each side, could see almost nothing at all. Blinded, Clara followed the Doctor without hesitation as he stepped over the edge of the river and in to the magma flow.

In an instant the magma parted creating imposing banks of red hot rocks on either side that towered over them. Emerick gaped in amazement and stumbled after her companions, almost losing her grip on Clara’s hand. Between the vertical walls of magma the heat inexplicably reduced, the sulphur cleared from the air and a cooling, damp breeze washed over them.

“It’s not safe yet,” the Doctor insisted as Clara began to release his hand. “They key is being admitted through the gates of hell. If we break contact, even for a second, there is every possibility that those walls of magma will come crashing down.”

His words were motivational. Linked together the three began to stride along the channel made for them keeping their eyes focused exclusively on the end goal, the island. As they approached the island changed, shifting like a mirage, from a rocky barren outcrop to an oasis of light and vegetation. Threads of natural daylight, bright and clear, reached along the path and bird song drifted toward them on the breeze.

“It’s beautiful.” Emerick said in admiration, “It’s just like our creation stories.”

“Eden.” Clara agreed.

“Welcome to Fel-har-dai,” the Doctor’s voice was less enthused as he looked at Clara, “You remember what happened to Adam and Eve?”

She nodded.

“Don’t touch anything.”

A snort shot from Emerick’s nostrils and two pairs of eyes fixed on her.

“Does touching the fruit turn the impure soul into a burn torch in your creation myth too?” she asked.

“Not quite,” Clara replied, “But if the image works for you then go with it.”

As soon as Emerick’s trailing foot stepped onto the island the parted river collapsed, swallowing the path with a phenomenal crash. By the time they had all turned, in an awkward dance led by the Doctor and Emerick simultaneously, a realistic holographic image had concealed the cavern in its entirety.

“I can’t even feel the heat,” Clara said as she used the sleeves on her upper arms to wipe clear her face without letting go other the Doctor or Emerick.

The Doctor sniffed imperiously, “I wouldn’t want reminding of the fire outside the door if I had lived here for the last 100,000 years.”

He let go of Clara’s hand and, with a broad smile flashing illuminating his face, turned to a withered old man who shuffled towards them. Wrinkles gathered around his sunken cheeks and neck as though he had collapsed into a miniature version of his younger self and the skin had been left behind. A staff, gripped by gnarled arthritic fingers, aided his slow progress across the lush, thick grass that covered the ground. He wore a long, beet red, tunic which was tied at the waist and finished at his knees, covering sandy trousers that were frayed at the ankle. His feet were bare, toe knuckles inflamed and twisted, but on the tops of his feet and the backs of his hands white and red concentric circles were painted. The echoed on his forehead with four finger prints, alternating in colour, above each dark eye.

“Hallo there!” the Doctor called cheerily, stepping forward to halt the old man’s painful walk.

“Greetings, travellers,” he replied, leaning heavily on his staff with both hands. “I have waited many lifetimes for you.”

Clara smiled warmly and, offering her hand to him, made the simple introductions that she knew the Doctor would omit. He took her hand awkwardly, shaking as his fingers stroked her skin with a frail, feathery touch.

“Forgive me,” he released her hand with evident reluctance, “I am the last caretaker of Fel-har-dai. I do not remember the last time I took the hand of another person.”

“What’s you name?” Emerick asked him, offering her own hand and holding his reassuringly. His crooked fingers wrapped around hers and he patted the back of her hand gently with two fingers making Emerick’s forehead crease.

The caretaker frowned and shook his head, “It has been so long I do not remember it.”

“I was a caretaker once,” the Doctor interjected, “You could say it was the highlight of my career.”

“Yeah,” Clara muttered, “I suppose the damage left behind in the school hall was one of the least destructive days you’ve had.”

“But you have travelled far,” the old man stared into the Doctor’s eyes, “And you have so much farther to go.”

“Yes, yes, yes… I’ve heard it all before. Not a fan of prophecies myself. Let’s stick to the here and now, shall we?”

Ignoring the look of  incredulity  that Clara poured in his direction the Doctor slipped on his sonic shades and began scanning the area, changing the settings several times before settling on something suitable.

“You have something here that you have been protecting for, well, eternity, I suppose. What is it?”

A small smile crossed the caretaker’s lips, “My life is not an eternity. There were others before me, but I fear I am the last.”

Emerick, her hand still entwined by the caretaker’s fingers, felt his weight shift and lean into her grip. “How did you get here?”

He shook his head sadly, “I was a young man once, searching for something. I was there, then I was here, and it is all the same. The mind grows feeble in the end.”

“Have you always been alone?”

The Doctor threw his hands up in frustration and he stalked away, walking towards the trees and a narrow animal track that led through them. Clara rolled her eyes and, torn between listening to the caretaker or following the Doctor, wavered a second before catching Emerick’s gaze and indicating with a jerk of the head, that she was going with him. Emerick nodded and began leading the old man in the same direction at a vastly slower pace.

“Not always alone, but I have been here such a long, long time,” Clara heard him say as she stretched the distance between them.

She lengthened her stride to catch the Doctor who was at the edge of the crop of trees. Unlike the forest they had travelled through before the trees here were  deciduous and positively average in size. A few stray golden leaves lay on the grass, with many more clinging to the last brush of life on the branches above. Clara would have sworn that the trees had been mostly green when they stepped onto the island. She brushed the thought away as she reached the Doctor’s side, putting her hand on his shoulder briefly to slow his frustrated pacing.

“We’re running out of time,” the Doctor snapped, “And I realise that is doubly ironic on this particular occasion.”

Side by side they squeezed down the narrow animal track, low branches brushing their backs sending more leaves to the floor. In a small glade watered by a slow flowing brook stood a long, low, yellow stone building with a roof made from woven branches, daubed with clay. The sides of the building were not solid, long, crafted gaps allowed entry to the structure, except for at the far end where the gap was filled with more branches and clay. Conscious of the Doctor’s earlier warnings Clara stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets. The Doctor seemed less keen to heed his own words of advice, brushing the stone pillars as he entered the building, hesitating only to admire the stonemason’s work.

Inside there was one long room which ended with a long, heavy curtain, pulled back enough to allow entrance to a sleeping chamber. In the centre of the room stood a very old wooden table, surrounded by 12 well worn wooden chairs with tall backs and long arms. A staff leant against 11 of the chairs, each worn from use, every one carved with unique designs with different levels of skill.  In the middle of the table a carafe sat, filled to the brim with a thin purple liquid. The Doctor looked at it through narrowed eyes and, after checking over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear, stepped boldly up to the table seizing the jug with both hands.

“Is that the elixir?” Clara asked, joining him at the table and peering with suspicion at the purple fluid that rippled at the Doctor’s careless touch but refused to spill.

The Doctor nodded, “Enough to cure the ills of a small settlement I would think. Maybe even  a small town.”

“And you’re sure you want to do this?” Clara looked at him inquisitively, “I mean I know we’ve been through it and I understand the whole thing with Ashildr…”

“The floodgates are open now, Clara. Anyone in the universe can get in now the barriers are down. Imagine if this got out into the population of just one small colony. People who should have died will live, history, or the future, will be changed, and not just for the better. How long before some clever scientist learns the miracles of the elixir and creates a working synthetic batch? The rich would trade in it, the poor would suffer. Sooner or later word would spread, there would be war. There would be needless death, needless suffering, and the immortals would have to watch it all.”

“You would be correct, if it was the elixir for eternal life.”

Clara and the Doctor spun around to see Emerick and the caretaker approaching, the caretaker’s hand clasping Emerick’s arm tightly. Clara blushed, the child caught with her hand in the biscuit jar, but the Doctor was unabashed.

“Not the elixir of eternal life?” he cocked his head to one side and peered closely at the man, “You, my friend, are incredibly old. Older than me, by far. And that’s terribly unusual. So if that isn’t the elixir won’t you share your healthy lifestyle tips, I’m sure there’s a market for that kind of information.”

The caretaker chuckled softly, “Oh the elixir will keep you alive for a very, very long time, but it has certain limitations. It was developed as a cure-all in the darkest of time over a million years ago when plague and famine destroyed this world.”

Emerick helped the old man to take a seat in the chair at the head of the table. When he was settled he beckoned for the others to join him without releasing his hold of Emerick. Reluctant to leave the old man wanting, Emerick drew up the nearest chair but the Doctor stilled Clara’s movement with a subtle wave of his fingers. Clara looked at him warily and stepped a little closer to his side.

“What happened to this world?” Emerick asked.

“The secret of eternal life is hard to keep,” the old man tapped Emerick’s hand lightly, “Though no-one has left or entered this planet in a hundred thousand years you still heard whispers of its existence.”

“And the promise of living forever is something worth fighting for,” added the Doctor, sighing and shoving his hands into his pockets.

The caretaker nodded slowly, “Eventually Fel-Har-Dai was invaded, by many races over thousands of years.”

“Leaving the people of this world little choice, take the drug, or die defending your home.” Emerick offered and received a nod of confirmation.

“Self-fulfilling prophecy,” Clara realised, “This might not have been the place of eternal life, but when enough people had ingested the drug…”

“Fel-har-dai is not the original name for this planet,” the Doctor interrupted, “I doubt anyone can remember what it was called, and I doubt if anyone cares. People who live forever try to maintain the secret, the earliest records I found were written by another species, one that had lost a war.”

The caretaker inclined his head in acknowledgement of the Doctor, “According to the manuscripts after thousands of years only a small proportion of the planet had not tasted the elixir. Children, for the most part, who were forbidden to drink until their twenty-sixth year of life…”

“...because who would want to live as a child for all eternity.” Clara caught the Caretaker’s curious stare, “Trust me, I teach teenagers. All those conflicting hormones, for the rest of your life? No thanks.”

“One immortal is a dangerous creation,” the Doctor observed coldly, “A whole world of immortals… becomes an invincible army.”

The caretaker sighed, “They built a wall around the citadel to keep out those who would seek to obtain the drug, but still others came. It did not seem to matter how many died in the search, immortality is so highly prized the risk was considered worth it. So they took the war to other worlds and flew out in great ships, everyone but the children and their guardians.”

“And no-one came back?” Emerick’s frown was deep.

“Not a single ship, not a single person,” agreed the Caretaker solemnly.

“The limitations of the elixir,” the Doctor said softly, “It doesn’t work when you leave.”

The caretaker nodded, “That is what the guardian’s assumed.”

The Doctor threw a victorious glance at Emerick, “Do you still want your magic potion?”

Emerick shrugged, stone faced. “Do you still want to destroy it?”

The caretaker dropped his chin to his chest and sighed. “The caretakers before me told stories of people who came to destroy the elixir. Few have tried. In the end even the caretakers preferred to die rather than destroy it.”

“If it makes you immortal, how do you die?” Clara moved a step closer, searching the old man’s face for truth.

“One drink does not an immortal make,” he laughed, bitterly. “You must continue to drink. Once in a while, when you feel the effects lessening, and in time you begin to age. If you abstain for a very long time you will, eventually, be no more than you were before you took your first sip.”

Emerick ducked her head to look the old man in the eye, “How did you become a caretaker?”

His black eyes looked up to meet hers with solemnity and a sad ghost of a smile traced a path across his lips.

“My dear, I do believe I died.”

 

The old man held Emerick’s gaze, his dark eyes locked into hers as she frowned and shook her head.

“I don’t understand,” she held his hand more tightly, feeling the ridges of his calloused and wrinkled skin, “How can you have died?”

The Doctor drew back one of the chairs and sat down gracefully, sliding his way into the caretaker’s peripheral view. Cautiously he slid the tray and carafe along the table.

“It’s very simple to die,” the Caretaker spoke softly as he wrapped her hand in both of his, “Everyone does it, in the end.”

“The more interesting question,” the Doctor interjected, “Is how did you die?”

“I drowned,” he said simply. “It was quick, and so long ago. It is just a blink of the eye.”

Clara drew closer, dropping to her knees and looking up at the old man.

“What was your name?” She asked, reaching out her hand and placing it on top of his, “Do you remember who you were before all this? Before you became a guardian?”

Emerick leant forward and studied the old man’s face, checking the contours of his face. Freeing a hand from his grasp she took his chin in her hand and brushed away the creases in his skin around the eyes, smoothing the skin of his cheek tenderly.

“Theos?” the word struggled faintly from her lips.

A tear split over the rim of his eye and he bent his head, “That was my name, a very long time ago. I never dreamt to hear you speak it again.”

Emerick stared at him, hand frozen against his cheek, his name still hanging on her lips.

“Ten thousand year,” the Doctor added, “That’s a long time to wait for anyone. I once knew someone who waited nearly two thousand years for his girlfriend, I was quite impressed with that at the time. But ten thousand years, stuck in real time whilst she is stuck on the slow path. That’s some love story.”

“I could not reach you,” Theos told Emerick, ignoring the Doctor. “Once I was inducted into the inner sanctum, once I had drunk the elixir, I could not leave.”

“You can leave with us,” Clara said hurriedly, “Isn’t that right, Doctor? We can help Theos leave this place, can’t we?”

The Doctor shook his head sadly, “Look at him, Clara. Theos is impossibly old. If he were to leave this world he would die, just like those who rode out to conquer the universe.”

“It is more than that,” Theos pulled himself upright, his ancient bones creaking with the movement, “I cannot leave this island. It is the sanctum. The only place left on this world where the effects of the elixir still work.”

“How is that even possible?” Clara looked to the Doctor who shrugged off her question.

“But if you have been drinking the elixir why are you so old? Shouldn’t you be the same age you were when you died?” Emerick’s hand strayed to the bottle that was now within her reach.

Theos looked away, his cataract eyes filled with tears. "I had run out of hope. Just as my brothers did before me. I had chosen to die. After I drowned the elixir returned my life, in full. More than that it had altered by cells, and made me into something else."

The Doctor moved away from the bitter-sweet reunion, his brow furrowed. Crossing the room he came to the sleeping compartment and stepped in, shoes crunching on dried reeds that lay across the floor. There were six bunks in the room, all dust covered except one which was neatly made. Beside this cot was a small writing desk, and all around the walls were lined with musty tomes, leather spines cracked and withered with age. On the desk one book, part written, lay open, quill pen resting on the half written, ornate but spidery script.

Treading carefully the Doctor moved quietly across the room and flicked through the pages, speed reading the archaic hard with ease. Sighing he returned the book to its resting place and placed the quill back in position before retracing his steps and slipping back into the other room, his absence noted only by Clara who knew better than to question his troubled expression in company.

"It is time we were leaving," he said to Clara, drawing he aside and towards the exit.

"Why?" she followed, reaching out and brushing his sleeve with her hand, "And what about Emerick and Theos?"

"Lost cause," he replied, receiving a stinging stare from his companion which made him hesitate. "Theos can't leave here. There is nothing I can do to stop him dying if he leaves this island."

"And Emerick?" Clara's eyes were wide, "We can't just walk away."

"That's exactly what we're going to do."

Clara shook her arm free of his guiding grip, "No."

The Doctor stopped in his stride and turned with measured slowness, "Clara, we have to leave. Believe me when I tell you that right now, more than at any other moment in your life, time is literally running out."

"Time might be your master, but it's not mine." Clara bit back, "I am not leaving Emerick behind."

His face twisted with restrained frustration as Clara strode back to the table where Emerick and Theos sat.

Emerick stood as Clara approached, her movement stiff, one hand clutching Theos' the other knuckled tight at her side.

"You cannot make me leave."

Clara blinked, "But you can't stay. You'll be trapped here forever. On this island."

"This shrinking island," the Doctor appeared behind Clara's shoulder. His face was grim, expression set. "This world is dying and there is nothing I can do to stop it."

"What do you mean?" Emerick's black eyes held the Doctor to the spot.

The Doctor caste his hands wide, "Look around you. You are trapped on a tiny island in a bubble of real time that is shrinking. Outside time is slowing down. Do you know why?"

Two heads shook in unison. Theos slowly closed his eyes and took a slow, silent breath.

“The world is dying because I am dying,” the old man sighed, forcing his chin out in resolution. “When the first caretaker of Fel-har-dai grew tired of immortality he tried to end his life. There were no ships left to take him from this world, and so, of course, he could not succeed. The elixir was strong, it bound him to life no matter how he tried to end it. Then, after many years of refusing the elixir he found new lines in his skin, and he knew there was hope to end his suffering.”

Theos stood slowly, stretching his aching spine, his hand still holding Emerick’s tenderly. Across the table the Doctor urged him to continue with a rapid, beckoning motion.

“The caretakers had made it their role to walk the paths of this world in search of knowledge and to be sure no-one might try to obtain the elixir. A world this small can be circled in 40 nights, by foot and coracle. Each took turns to make the journey, travelling alone, enjoying the silence of existence without our brothers. When, after several thousand years, the first caretaker finally died of old age the other's noticed a change in the planet. Cracks began to form when once the ground had been solid. Then, one day, another caretaker failed to return from his pilgrimage. Others set to find him and it was then that they discovered that the boundary of this curse was no longer outside the planet's atmosphere."

He reached across the table and lifted the glass of elixir in a salute to the Doctor, "With the death of a second caretaker the border drew back further. Every caretaker that died drew the limits of the elixir ever closer."

"But it's more than that isn't it?" the Doctor leaned forward, "You aren't just tied to the elixir's boundary, you're tied to the planet. How?"

Theos shrugged, "I was never terribly good at science, I don't pretend to understand. All I can tell you is that the elixir is...alive. It connects those who drink it to the planet. Sometimes I can hear, or maybe sense, it's presence."

Emerick's face was pale. She gripped Theos' hand, afraid to release his fingers from her grasp. "If a whole world of people left, and died, without killing the planet, I don't see how the death of one more could make a difference."

"There!" the Doctor leapt forward, pointing at Emerick's chest. "And that's why I let you tag along. But that’s not quite the right question."

He spun, arms wide, entreating his audience to offer another suggestion.

"How can the death of one person start a chain reaction that is destroying a world?" Clara asked, providing the catalyst the Doctor desired.

"Exactly," he beamed at her.

Clara raised an eyebrow, “And you have the answer?”

“I have a hypothesis,” he admitted without a hint of doubt, “I think the elixir wasn’t created by a scientist, I think it was found.”

“By whom?” Emerick asked, looking from the Doctor to Theos who had closed his eyes and leant back in his chair in exhaustion.

“I don’t think it matters,” the Doctor replied, walking back to the table with a measured slowness, “Theos says he feels a connection to the planet. He senses it. He can hear it thinking. Meaning…”

“The planet is sentient,” offered Clara with enthusiasm.

The Doctor nodded, “Exactly.”

“So the elixir connects the person to this sentient creature,” Clara walked in the opposite direction of the Doctor until they were stood at either end of the long table. “And if the planet is dying as the caretaker’s die then there is a symbiotic relationship. The planet can’t live without Theos, and Theos can’t live without the planet.”

“I don’t like the idea, but I’ll buy it,” Emerick interjected, slipping her fingers from Theos’ sleeping grip. “But that doesn’t explain how the death of one caretaker started this chain of events.”

The Doctor gestured to the bed chamber, “Theos has been investigating this for quite some time. Of course he had no proof, not until recently when the world literally began to die around him. His journals are detailed records of the world as far as he could see, which in the recent centuries has been limited to this cavern. This cavern, this house, is older than you have the ability to conceive. The stonemason marks on the door lintel, are over two million years old. Someone has been connected to this planet, maybe since the planet’s evolution.”

“That’s impossible,” Emerick dismissed the idea in an instant and saw Clara shake her head in disagreement.

“I would agree, if this planet was a natural formation.” The Doctor paused, closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. Raising his hands, linked in prayer formation, he pressed his forefingers to his lips and exhaled.

Emerick shot a glance at Clara, “What is he doing?”

Clara’s forehead creased into a uncomfortable frown, “At a guess, trying to connect to the creature psychically.”

“How can that be safe?” Emerick asked, watching the Doctor’s chest rise and fall in fine, even measures.

“Honestly, it probably isn’t. But that doesn’t usually stop him.”

A low, pained, moan wrung from the Doctor as his head tilted backwards and his hands, still pressed together, slipped down his chin and came to rest against his throat. Clara and Emerick stepped towards him but held their ground a foot from his side, waiting.

“So old,” the Doctor whispered in a voice that was not his own, “So tired.”

Clara swallowed hard, “Who are you?”

The Doctor’s head turned to Clara and his eyelids opened exposing rolled eyeballs and pulsing red blood vessels. “I am Amathricus, last of the Creatura Synthesis.”

“What are you?” Emerick demanded, making the Doctor’s head snap to face her.

“The core, the essence, the centre of this world,” the words rasped from the Doctor’s throat.

“We don’t have much time,” Clara told Emerick as the other woman prepared to ask another question. “He’s not breathing. Even with the respiratory bypass we probably have a 4 minutes, at the outside.”

She turned back to the Doctor and spoke with quiet urgency, “Okay, Amathricus. What is it you want?”

Mechanically the Doctor’s head tilted to the side as if on a ratchet, clicking through a few degrees at a time. “Life, existence, future.”

Clara stole a look at Theos, examining his greying skin and shallow, sleeping breath. “And can you live? Is there a way?”

“Yes,” Amathricus’ answer whispered on the edge of a fine breeze that slipped through the room, bringing with it a dry heat.

“How?” Clara pushed, “How can we help you live? Because if it’s by drinking up and becoming one with the planet, sorry, that’s not part of the deal.”

A capillary in the Doctor’s left eye popped and a cloud of blood curdled the white and the veins at either side of his head pulsed visibly.

“The next stage of existence approaches,” the Doctor’s voice was barely audible now and a blue tinge was spreading from his lips to the skin of his face. “Rebirth.”

“How is this helping, exactly?” Emerick hissed at Clara as she wiped beads of sweat from her face.

“No idea,” Clara admitted as she loosened the collar of her shirt with one finger. “Why has it suddenly got to hot in here?”

In the chair behind Emerick Theos arched his back and grunted in pain. Emerick spun and caught his flailing body as he fell to the ground. Unconscious, Theos struggled, writhing in pain and lashing out until Emerick had pinned down both his arms with all her strength and the spasm eased. Running her fingers down his neck she felt for his pulse.

“Theos,” she caressed his cheek with her thumb, wiping her own tears from his skin, “Please…don’t die.”

Clara ran to the door of the barn and felt a wall of heat bursting across the threshold. Outside the illusion of the forest had almost entirely given way to the reality of the volcano. A narrow channel of trees lead to the doorway, but on either side rock, magma and flame merged together in a blanket of fire.

“I think we’re in trouble,” Clara called ahead of her as she hurried back to the Doctor’s side, casting a sideways glance at Emerick and the shrivelled body of Theos.

“Sustain him,” the Doctor sunk to his knees, hands pressed into the ground, fingers splayed, like a runner on the starting line. “I need more time.”

Clara scrambled to Emerick’s side and felt Theos’ pulse, it’s erratic beat hard to measure. Emerick, half frozen, shook her head trying to regain any form of composure.

“You guys have hearts, right?” Clara asked, catching Emerick’s shirt and shaking her with just enough force to get her full attention.

“Yes,” Emerick nodded, “Right side of the chest.”

“And you have a first aid procedure for when someone’s heart stops? Chest compressions?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Clara grinned with relief as she took hold of Emerick’s hands and pressed them to Theos’ chest. “Because I’ve never tried this on a human, let alone an alien.”

Emerick slide Theos from her lap and positioned herself beside his body, lacing the fingers of both hands together and pumping on the lower half of the right side of his chest where a human lung would be.

“My pack,” Emerick jerked her head to the bag that lay on the floor behind him, “The nano-tec gel I used on you. Silver packet, mauve marker.”

Clara retrieved the kit, tearing the seal open with her teeth and offering the open sachet to Emerick. Ripping Theos’ tunic with both hands Emerick slapped the gel against the exposed pale blue skin, holding the healing pack in place forcing the gel into one area. Emerick looked up at Clara, eyes inflated and wet. In an instant Clara understood the Doctor’s abhorrence of tears. It wasn’t lack of empathy that fuelled his revulsion, it was the internal sense of hopelessness they created.

Averting her gaze Clara reached for Theo’s neck and felt the pulse steady and gain marginal strength. With a couple of short nods in Emerick’s general direction Clara turned back to the Doctor. His fingers dug into the dirt, the sinews in his hands raised and thick as more of his weight transferred forwards threatening to pitch him, nose first, into the floor.  His mouth opened and at first Clara thought he was trying to speak, but over the sound of Emerick delivering more chest compressions she could hear the whistle of lungs demanding oxygen through a closed throat.

“Doctor!” Clara called on instinct, then dropping to a crouch in front of him she addressed the planet instead, “Amathricus, he’s dying. You need to let the Doctor go.”

The Doctor’s eyes closed until they were squeezed tightly shut. There was a stutter in his throat before his eyes burst open and he toppled forward gasping in lungfuls of hot, sulphurous air. Clara’s hand thumped into his shoulders, her fingers tightening around his jacket sleeves, keeping him from falling. His hands sprung up to grasp her forearms and he met her eye with a brief moment of gratitude before springing back onto his feet as though nothing had occurred.

“Time to go,” he voice was steady but breathless.

“I can’t leave him,” Emerick replied from the floor.

In her arms Theos stirred. He turned his head to look up at her, “Emerick, I’m dying. There is nothing anyone can do to change that.”

The Doctor walked passed them and took the tumbler from the table. Crouching down on one knee he held the old man sit up and lean against Emerick.

“Theos, you are a good man,” the Doctor told him, pressing the drink into the Caretaker’s hand, steadying the hand with his own. “I promise I will get Emerick out of here safely, but I need your help.”

Clara bit back her urge to protest as Theos raised the elixir to his lips. As the old man drank the shaking in his hand eased and colour returned to his face. Draining the glass he closed his eyes briefly and pressed the empty vessel back into the Doctor’s hand.

“A moment?” Theos asked the Doctor.

The Doctor nodded, speaking gently as he turned away, “We don’t have long.”

The lines of age had already begun to fade from Theos’ skin. With every passing second more of his natural pigment returned, white turning to pale and finally dark blue. Creases around the eyes smoothed, his spine straightened and his breathing returned to normal.

“I’m still dying,” he told Emerick, “Don’t let my looks confuse you.”

“Let me stay,” she insisted as she helped him to his feet. “I can do this, I can live here forever, with you.”

Theos shook his head, “I’m sorry, you can’t. This world is about to be reborn. It will scatter itself amongst the stars in an explosion bigger than a sun. The molecules that make up it, and me, will bind together, and we will become the foundation of a new planet. I can hold it together until you have gone, but you have to hurry.”

Emerick wrapped her arms around Theos, burying her face in his neck. He held her tightly, breathing in the scent of her hair before gently, and firmly, pushing her back.

“You will always be mine,” she whispered, “No matter where I am.”

“Don’t think of me too often,” he told her. Even his voice was younger now. “But when you do, remember you were loved.”

“Theos…”

He shook his head and pushed her away, “You have to go. Now.”

Their fingers parted sliding away from each other as a rumble of the volcano broke through the silence. Clara wrapped her arm through Emerick’s guiding her away, out of the barn. The Doctor paused at the door, casting a look of gratitude to Theos before turning and hurrying after them.

Beyond the door the temperature had soared. The trees had vanished, replaced by lumps of smouldering rock and pools of magma. Geysers of molten rock thrust their way through the ground, spurting thousand degree columns of thick magma into the air.

A few meters from the barn Emerick and Clara were locked together, Clara’s arm binding Emerick to her side.

“Where are we going?” Clara bellowed above the sound of crashing magma and falling rocks. “We can’t go back the way we came.”

“We won’t have to,” the Doctor slid the sonic shades back over his eyes and adjusted the settings. “The world is shrinking, the barriers are broken, and the fields that kept the TARDIS from landing within the walls have crumbled.”

“And?” Clara prompted as she gripped Emerick’s arm more firmly as she felt the other woman stumble.

A small blue light began to flash on the rim of his spectacles and a self satisfied grin cracked across his face, “Homing beacon.”

Clara glared at him, caught between exasperation and relief. “Are you telling me every time we were cornered, shot at, chased, or thrown in jail you could just have summoned the TARDIS and we could have escaped?”

“Not every time,” he argued in an injured tone, “I save the feature for cases of absolute emergency, she doesn’t like it when I click my fingers and expect her to come running. She’s also unpredictable, I don’t usually have access to a lucky charm that will actually call her to exactly the right spot.”

A thunderous crack sent shards of rock raining around them as the walls of the cave began to give way. Clara and the Doctor simultaneously pulled Emerick into a tight, three sided, testudo with the Doctor’s coat flailing above them in a vain hope of protection.

“You better buy her a new chameleon circuit and a whole field of flowers then,” Clara grinned up at him as she heard the tell-tale sound of the TARDIS materializing around them, “Because you have a lot of apologising to do.”

 

 

“How do I look?” Clara asked as the TARDIS materialised behind the bike shed at Coal Hill School.

The Doctor regarded her for less than a second, “Human.”

She scowled at him across the console, “I have to teach year 9 Romeo and Juliet in precisely ten minutes. All I want to know is, do I look like I just stepped out of a volcano?”

He looked up properly the second time. “You changed your clothes, aside from the slightly odd odour of sulphur I don’t think anyone would notice.”

“That’s not sulphur,” Clara retorted, “It’s deodorant.”

“The singed eyebrows might give it away, though,” he admitted, “But they are teenage half humans. Their powers of observance...”

“Are far better than most adults,” she completed the sentence for him. “I’ll pass it off with a lesson about not playing with matches.”

“Good thinking,” he smiled at her as he adjusted dials and flicked switches along the control panel.

“Do you think Emerick will be all right?” Clara asked making him hesitate. “I know we dropped her off at a colony of her own people, but it’s a lot to go through.”

“Losing your home world?”

“Losing your lover. Twice.”

The tone in her voice had changed and the Doctor forced himself to meet her gaze. “You are ‘all right’, aren’t you?”

“I had… a reason to fight.”

The Doctor looked away, “So does Emerick.”

Clara eyed his nervous movements and his refusal to meet her stare. “Is she pregnant?”

“With Theos’ child? Yes. Luck of the temporal disturbances. She was probably pregnant before they first landed.” He moved around the console standing between Clara and the exit. “And speaking of luck. The charm, please.”

A disappointed frown crossed her face, “With Fel-har-dai not existing any more I was hoping I could keep it.”

“Honestly, Clara, just because you’ve seen what happens doesn’t mean Fel-har-dai doesn’t exist. That was millions of years in your future. I have to destroy the charm to stop anyone else finding it.”

The Doctor extended his hand and Clara, with reluctance more feigned than genuine, she fished the tiny key from a chain around her neck. Undoing the clip she placed it in his palm before taking her usual necklace from her purse and fastening it under her hair.

“I like this one better anyway,” she said, stroking the edge of the pendant bird’s wing. “I’ve always felt an affinity for birds.”

“You might notice a slight down-turn in your luck over the next week or two,” said the Doctor as he hung the key over a lever in the TARDIS. “It shouldn’t be anything too dramatic. You might miss a few more buses. Overcook your microwave meal. You can’t have all your good fortune at once without expecting repercussions.”

“Does that mean you won’t be calling on me for a fortnight? You don’t want a jinx hanging about drinking coffee in your TARDIS?” Her beaming smile faltered as she realised that was exactly what he was thinking. “Okay, fine. But you owe me. When I see you next I want to go somewhere… unexpected.”

“Done,” he shooed her towards the exit, pointing at her watch. “Year 9, Romeo and Juliet. You’ll be late.”

Clara laughed and ran for the door, giving him a little wave before slamming it shut behind her.

The TARDIS dematerialized leaving Clara standing in the empty bike shed. All around the school was silent.

“That’s weird,” she said with a shrug, “My watch must be slow.”

She pulled back the sliding bolt on the metal cage gate but it refused to move, a padlock holding the gate solidly shut from the outside.

“That’ll be the bad luck kicking in,” Clara groused, taking out her phone to dial the school secretary. “I have no idea how I’m going to explain this one.”

The phone display lit up as she entered the unlock code, and Clara stared at the device in frustration.

Sunday, 5th June 08:55

“Well,” she said tiredly taking a seat on the concrete floor. “This is going to be one hell of a week.”

 


End file.
